Neptune
by SilverLining2k6
Summary: Series reboot fic. 22 'episodes', 1 over-arching mystery, 3 mini-arcs, Dozens of cameos, plus the usual focus on love, friendship, and family. Eventual LoVe and even some MaDi. Veronica has had it with life as a homicide detective and returns home for the first time since leaving for her FBI internship. She doesn't know something followed her home, and it's not a puppy.
1. PrologueAuthor's Note

**Neptune**

* * *

**Authors Note and Prologue**

* * *

**A/N ** I think most fic writers have their 'epic fic'. The immense story they want to tell more than all others. I have been plotting this one out for the past year. I probably would have waited another year to begin posting it, meticulously ironing out each and every last detail, but then we got the news of the VM movie. It's either post now, while canon still ends at 3x20, or possibly never post it.

Several people have posted 'Season 4' fics, picking up after V's summer with the FBI and writing through the next school year. I wanted to do something different. I wanted to do a 'Series Reboot' fic. As if Netflix or some other entity had purchased the rights, hired the same actors, and started creating a new season immediately.

22 'episodes' but I'll state right now, One episode does not equal one chapter - probably more like three chapters.

1 over-arching mystery 3 mini-arcs, Dozens of cameos. Plus the usual focus on love, friendship, and family.

Disclaimer. There's an old saying: 'people never change'. I think that is a complete crock of bull. People can't help but change. We're shaped by the events in our lives. Some for the better, some for the worse. Adversity can open our eyes and make us better people, or it can make us shut down and regress. But this isn't a philosophy lesson. Just a reminder that if you feel that I'm writing somebody out of character, remember they've had 6 years of life experience since the series finale. If they're very out of character, you can be sure that I'll eventually get around to explaining what made them change so much. I like to draw out the reveals though, as you will know if you're reading 'Sometimes'

As for 'Sometimes', it will not be abandoned. I promise.

* * *

**Prologue - San Diego, California**

_He watches through binoculars from his fifth floor hotel room as the aged wood screen door bursts open, snapping its chain and slamming against the wall. It bounces off, only to be slammed back again by the enraged woman tearing out of the small bungalow. _

_He often watches her. __Sometimes, like this, from afar. Sometimes, from nearby, where__ her shoulders tense and tighten, as if she can physically feel his eyes upon her. __Sometimes close enough where he can see the hairs lifting on the back of her neck - his cue to melt back into the crowd. But never, in all of his watching, has he seen her in a rage like this. _

_Nearly tripping down the three cement steps, the small blonde homicide detective rights herself and stalks to the front gate. She fumbles with the latch, but the mechanism eludes her, causing her to lose her battle for professionalism. She pulls back her heeled foot and kicks the wooden structure. She freezes for a moment, her face reflecting her shock at the loss of her tightly held control. But control once lost, no longer feels as necessary, so she kicks again. And again, and again and again. Wood splinters and he thinks she may have broken toes from the way she yelps and grabs at her foot. She shakes the gate furiously, trying to rip it off its hinges._

_Her face contorts in despair. Failure. He reaches a hand between his legs, stroking himself, drunk on the knowledge that he put that look on her face. He orchestrated her failure. Like he's done twice before. _

_He can tell from her expression she's finally made the connection. He's been careful to ensure each victim, each cause of death, was as dissimilar from the others as possible, but he knew she would figure it out eventually. Counted on her intuition. _

_Uniformed SDPD officers come running from the other side of the crime scene tape. One of them manages to get the gate open. Hands reach for her. Try to hold her still. She shakes them off, limping out to the road, aiming for the refuge of her car._

_The door opens on a parked Town Car, and her Lieutenant emerges, calling after her. She doesn't stop walking, so he runs to catch up, grabbing her by the arm. She spins around, fists flying, and blood spurts from her superior's nose. She yells something, and resumes her trek to her vehicle, pulling away with a trail of black tire marks. _

_He lowers the binoculars and finishes himself off to a fantasy he's imagined hundreds of times, perfected by repetition. Detective Veronica Mars, on her back, golden hair spread around her like a halo. His hands on her throat as he chokes the life out of her. Eyes bulging, face purple. He lets out an ugly grunt as he feels his release._


	2. Ep1 Pt1 Neptune California Population 15

**Neptune**

* * *

**Episode One/Part One: Neptune, California Population 15126**

* * *

**A/N** A bonus chapter since the prologue was so short. The obligatory 'prodigal daughter returns' chapter.

**August 2013**

**'Neptune 3/4 miles' **the green sign warns in white block print, but the blonde in the black 2008 Sebring convertible barely registers. She's driven this stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway countless times before; knows the landmarks by heart. Pass up the first exit next to the giant boulder, and get off at the second, by the overpass spray painted with _Raul + Belinda 4ever _in large red letters.

Today, however, the girl feels the need to shake things up. She's a different person now, so when she sees the boulder, she makes a last-minute decision to exit the highway.

The origins of boulder itself are a Neptune mystery - the car-sized rock just appeared one night at the side of the highway, and not being an eyesore, nobody ever got around to having it hauled away. Only two members of the Fitzpatrick family know the rock marks the final resting place of Gustavio Toombs.

At the bottom of the ramp, the driver takes a moment to push a few loose strands of hair behind her ears, thankful that she secured her hair in a tight bun before departing San Diego. She plugs her iPod into the auxiliary port, and sets it to shuffle before making a left turn onto Oceanside Blvd.

_Time...time...time...see what's become of me._ The Bangles' 'Hazy Shade of Winter' starts up, and the girl behind the wheel can't help but press the gas pedal a little harder than necessary as she taps out a one-two one-two-three beat on the steering wheel.

To the right, the Albacore Club Marina stretches out in both directions as far as the eye can travel. The ocean is calm this morning, shimmering with a soft golden glow. The perfect day for boating, as evidenced by the countless yachts and sailboats already bobbing on the gentle waves.

A mile down the road, the driver makes another left onto Summer Heights Rd, drives under the highway overpass, and heads up into the twisting-turning roads of Neptune Hills. As she draws nearer to the heart of the 90909, the large houses give way to stately gated estates complete with stables and tennis courts. This is old money. Fortunes handed down for generations. Pomeroys. Gants. Those born here go on to become senators, philanthropists and publishing tycoons.

The Sebring turns right onto Brinsdale Gardens heading into new money territory. These sparkling estates are even larger, and populated by software moguls, producers, and self-made millionaires. Sports cars line nearly every driveway like neon signs saying '_midlife crises taking place here_'.

The driver makes a left onto Wood Hill Drive and pauses across from number 4815 - a glass monstrosity and one of the largest houses in Neptune. A new family lives here now. The past has been overwritten. No secrets remain to be discovered in heating ducts or under loose paving stones. Even the pool where her best friend took her last breath had been dug up years ago. Nothing remains of Lilly Kane.

The car pulls away.

* * *

_Inside 4815 Wood Hill, twelve year-old Carolee Berke, unnoticed in a dark corner of the library, observes her beloved father pressing himself against the rear of Louisa the housekeeper, while he gropes at her breast. Louisa's tightly clenched jaw and the tear running down her cheek are clear indicators that his attention is not welcome. _

_So much for the 'No means no' lectures. _

* * *

At the stop sign, a right turn onto Westchester Way will lead all the way down into Neptune proper. The Bangles give way to Pink's '_Please Don't Leave Me_' on the stereo, as the Sebring takes a left instead.

The girl behind the wheel is not sure why she parks the car outside of the gates of 118 Canyon View. There's nothing to see here but charred ruins.

This place had once been inhabited by the most vile excuse for a human being, and she should never have been drawn here. But some of her happiest moments took place here as well, during those idyllic two months before everything went to hell. Again.

She hasn't pined for him. She's moved on with her life in the last six years. She's dated, both seriously and casually. Had an intense, (somewhat) fulfilling career. Raised a few house plants. This blonde is not a piner.

But most people have that...someone. When it's late at night and you're too damn exhausted to keep up your guard, there's that one face that springs to mind. The symbol of roads not taken. And sure, sometimes she speaks his name to the air. Draws out the first syllable. It's a nice name. Feels good on the tongue.

For all she knows, He's long gone now. She's resisted any impulses to use her department resources to check up on him. She's turned off the TV the one or two times she's heard him mentioned.

His name is forbidden when she speaks to Mac, Wallace, or her father. She doesn't hate him - far from it - but what news could they possibly bring her? He's engaged? He's married? He has two kids? Or the opposite end of the spectrum: He's hit rock bottom? Succumbed to the alcoholism that was always a possibility? Graduated to harder substances? Either he's moved on spectacularly, or he's failed to. Either option makes her stomach knot up.

She's betting on married. Months earlier, during a phone conversation with her dad, he'd let slip the '_L-word_'. She'd shut him down immediately, but couldn't stop herself from dwelling later in bed. He'd brought the name up out of the blue, which indicated news of some type, and his voice hadn't been dire, so it wasn't news of death or injury. He's probably married or about to be. That has to be it.

Does that mean he's still here in town?

Doesn't matter. She won't be seeking him out. Quite the opposite.

The Sebring backs out of the driveway, and this time when it comes to Westchester Way, it makes the right-hand turn. Follows the road as it twists and turns out of the hills, past 'Software Circle' where the technology firms surround their king. Kane Software - still thriving, despite the sordid past of its founder.

* * *

_At this very moment, said founder sits behind his large mahogany desk in the largest office having his morning mope. It's the early hours - before the cubicles begin filling up with laughing employees, before the six hours straight of pointless meetings - when he counts his losses: Lianne - the love of his life, Lilly - the daughter who was his joy, Celeste - the wife who was his bedrock- _

_A tap on the door interrupts his reverie. __"Mr. Kane? Can I get you some coffee?"_

* * *

The road winds back towards the ocean.

Past the shopping district where upscale restaurants alternate with designer stores: Coach, Fossil, Louis Vuitton, Ann Taylor, Banana Republic.

Past the Neptune Grand, where the driver intentionally blanks out her mind. No point in dwelling on the past.

* * *

_Inside room 212 - one of the smaller budget rooms - the hotel manager, Jeff Ratner wakes suddenly with a shiver and wonders why it feels like somebody just walked over his grave._

* * *

Westchester ends back at Oceanside - miles South of where she started - and the Sebring turns left.

'Panic Switch' by Silversun Pickups begins playing, and once again the driver feels the impulse to press the pedal to the metal. She indulges herself. It's open road here. No place for a speedtrap.

A miles and a half down, the Neptune Fairgrounds spring up to her right.

Set-up is already in progress for this year's Neptunalia - the annual two-day water festival. Crews of workers erect the midway game tents, while a larger crew constructs the main stage.

* * *

_Danny Boyd runs wire to the immense speaker system and thinks about the tight ass on the fifteen year-old blonde he nailed last night. At least he hopes she was fifteen. _

* * *

As the car passes the food midway, the driver's mouth nearly waters in memory: cotton candy, fresh-cut French fries, gyros, corndogs, fresh-squeezed lemonade, deep-fried everything. She might have to put in an appearance. And pray that she doesn't have any awkward run-ins.

The Sebring travels on, into downtown Neptune, making a left turn on Rosecrans Boulevard. Not the classiest side of town. To her left, the garish frontage of the Camelot Motel is unchanged with the passage of time. She smiles wistfully at the memory of too many nights parked out here on stakeouts. Sometimes she had company.

* * *

_Inside room 226 on the second floor, Wesley Quaile, teenage son of a millionaire software developer, embraces Maria Perez, the gardener's daughter. By now, their parents have discovered they never came home last night. He promises her love and devotion and forever. They'll run away if that's the only way they can be together. He means every word. Maria smiles lovingly, and thinks about Juan, the boy she thought she'd marry someday. Before the PCHers got him killed. Wesley's a nice boy though. She could do worse. _

* * *

Down the road, on the right, past sex toy shops and adult bookstores, is the Seventh Veil strip club. It's closed-up tightly this time of the morning, as is its neighbor, Body Shop.

* * *

_In the back room, on a cheap cot, Loretta Cancun sleeps off last night's bender, knuckles bruised from her latest brouhaha. _

* * *

At the next intersection, the convertible makes a right on Adams Avenue, as The Black Keys' '_Tighten Up_' start whistling on the stereo.

One block up and to the left, it passes the Sac N' Pac.

* * *

_The cashier, Kevin Smith, suppresses a laugh as he rings up a box of condoms for a pimply thirteen year old. He's all for safe sex and everything, but there's no way this kid is getting any._

_Matt West knows what exactly what the cashier is thinking, but after last month's pregnancy scare, he's past worrying about what other people think._

* * *

On the opposite side of the street, gold leaf lettering announces the offices of Cliff McCormick, Attorney at Law.

Cliff won't be in for several hours. He's currently a little...tied up.

* * *

The Sebring passes Kensington video, where John/Julia Smith used to drive ninety miles every week just to catch a glimpse of her son Justin.

Three more blocks up, the driver pulls to a stop in front of a pawnshop, glances up, and for the first time, feels the old tug on the heartstrings.

Mars Investigations.

She's home.

She'll be back later.

Pulling back out onto Adams, the car passes the car wash where its driver last saw Lilly Kane alive, and makes a right two intersections later onto Alberta Drive.

The vehicle slows to 20 mph for the Neptune High schoolzone, and it's a good thing it does, as Deputy Norris Clayton is parked behind the hedges with a radar gun. But eh...he'd probably let her go with a warning anyway.

* * *

_Inside the school, Principal Van Clemmons comforts a tearful strawberry blonde office aide, as she relates her story of verbal abuse from two 09er boys. Some things never change. _

* * *

The vehicle continues down Alberta, passing the new City Hall. One of Woody Goodman's victims burned down the old one after the truth of his sexual proclivities was publicly revealed. He was never caught.

The new structure fits better with the neighborhood anyway.

* * *

_The County Supervisor - known to most as the Mayor of Neptune - is not yet in. He's not much of an early riser, but his assistant is already babbling on the phone to a girlfriend in a long-winded monologue. _

* * *

_Next door, at the Sheriff's Department, Sheriff Van Lowe stands outside of one of the cells making a mutually beneficial deal with a prisoner. All charges will be dropped, but he wants a cut of the action. _

* * *

The Sebring makes a right at Sandpiper Drive, leading into the residential area for the lower income brackets. It passes North Oak Drive on the right, where Mac used to live with her parents. Armsby Park, where the Fennells live, is two more streets up on the left. Finally, five blocks later, the driver makes a right onto Atherton Street.

Six houses up and to the left, she pulls into the driveway of the small brick ranch home her father purchased several years ago with the proceeds from his book on the murder of Dean O'Dell. She shuts off the car.

* * *

**Mars Residence**

Veronica Mars composes her face into something resembling normalcy before lifting her fist to knock. Taking a deep breath, and adding a smile to her façade, she raps on the wooden door. Having never lived in this house, she's not comfortable just walking in.

"Be right there," Keith calls out, opening the door moments later.

"Veronica?" Worry and delight battle for possession of his face. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you."

"Hi dad!" She opens with a cheerful little finger wave. "I'm home."

"Well come here and give your old man a hug," he commands with a booming voice, opening his arms wide.

Veronica steps into his embrace, squeezing him back. She considers breaking down - no place is safer than her father's arms - but dismisses the idea. She's spent too many years suppressing her vulnerability. The mere thought of crying is exhausting.

Keith takes a step back. "Let me look at you," he says, bracing her face between his hands.

"You act like you weren't over for dinner only two weeks ago." Veronica pulls away with a sigh. She can't allow him to examine her too closely. He'll see right through her.

"You're my little girl. I don't get to see you enough. Come on, I'll make you a some coffee,"

She follows him to the kitchen, taking a seat at the small oak table, as he inserts a coffee pod into the machine she bought him for Christmas. The motor hums as it brews, releasing a strong aroma of hazelnut. Veronica inhales deeply. Instant mood lifter. She recognizes a set of blue decorative bowls from the old apartment. And the golden scrollwork circle up on the wall.

Keith places creamer and sugar on the table before retrieving Veronica's mug from the brewer. He fixes a cup for himself and sits opposite his daughter.

"So tell me what's wrong."

"Wrong? What makes you think something's wrong? Everything's fine."

"Veronica…" He levels his knowing gaze upon her. "Your dark circles say otherwise."

"Fine." She exhales a bit petulantly. "I was wondering if you'd let me stay here with you for a while?"

"Stay here? What about your job? Are you taking a leave of absence?"

"No, not a leave of absence." She laughs bitterly. "I quit my job."

"You quit your job?"

_And there's the worry I was hoping to avoid._

"Yeah…" She flashes her _brave-little-trooper_ smile. The one that buys her time when she really doesn't want to talk about something.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"I've just...kind of had it. All of the death, day in and day out. Why did I ever think I could work homicide?"

"You caught a rough case?" Keith asks, and if anybody should know how a case could get under your skin, it's him. She'll spill all the gory details soon, but she's not ready yet.

"Something like that."

"You could always ask for a transfer to a different department," he suggests gently.

"Um...there might have been some bad blood there at the end." Veronica stares at her hands.

_And a broken nose._

Keith nods in understanding. "Well, you're welcome to stay here indefinitely. Is there anything else I can do to help?" he asks.

"I don't suppose you're hiring?" she asks with a hopeful expression. "I could use a job."

"There will always be a job for my beautiful and brilliant daughter. You're planning to stick around in Neptune?"

"Can't say for sure." She takes a sip from her coffee. "If it feels right. If I'm going to start-over, might as well do it where I have a built-in support system."

"That you do."

They talk for a while about inconsequential things. Thanks to Keith's proven track record on high-profile cases, business is booming. He's had to turn potential clients away recently, so Veronica's arrival could not be more fortuitous.

When she yawns, he gets up from the table. "Come on, let's get your room ready."

Veronica follows her father to the hallway where, after grabbing a clean set of sheets from the linen closet, he opens the door to the guest room.

The room contains a twin bed, two nightstands and a dresser. Nothing else. The lack of any decoration has never bothered her before, but she'll have to do something about it now that she'll be staying on a more long-term basis.

"The movers should be bringing my stuff tomorrow," she says, as they work together to strip the bed and put on clean sheets. "I'll have to rent a storage locker for my furniture."

"There's a place not far from the office. We can check it out later if you'd like, but you go ahead and take a nap now. You must have headed out at the crack of dawn."

* * *

Veronica wakes refreshed, an hour or so later, and brews herself another cup of coffee. Canned laughter from the TV, tells her that her father is still home. She'll join him in a moment, but first she needs to check in with Wallace; see if he wants to get something to eat later.

Retrieving her cell from her purse, she finds the battery drained. Damn. She'd had it on the car charger the entire ride here, but lately, the cord has been acting up.

She reaches for the landline, but doesn't get a dial tone.

"Dad, what's wrong with your phone?" she asks, wandering into the living room.

"The landline?" He glances up from the television. "We had that storm two days ago, knocked out the phone service. Somebody's coming to fix it tomorrow."

"Oh…" Veronica says, reaching for his cell on the coffee table. "Well my battery is dead, so I need to use-"

"Wait!" Keith protests in obvious alarm, but it's too late.

Veronica presses the power button. The screen lights up displaying a photo wallpaper of a happy looking couple mugging for the camera. Her jaw drops.

"What the hell is this?" Her eyes narrow and she enunciates every word separately.

Keith sighs. "I've been meaning to tell you for a while."

"How long?" Her voice drips with ice. "How long has this been going on?"

He looks at the floor. "About a year."

"A year?" Veronica nearly shrieks. "You've been hiding this from me for a year?"

"I wanted to tell you, but I knew you'd react this way."

"I just...I can't deal with this. This is not going to work."

Keith stands now, looks her in the eyes, and speaks firmly. "This is not up for discussion. We are two single adults in a loving, committed relationship. You do not get a say in this."

"Loving? After everything-"

"People change." He reaches for her hand. "Veronica, I love you, and I know I gave you too much leeway to dictate my love life when you were a teenager. You do not have that right anymore."

"But dad-"

"Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Not with her."

"Veronica…"

"Just keep her away from me."

"I will. For now. Eventually though, we're going to have to deal with this. You're both very important people in my life."

"I always thought you'd end up with Alicia," Veronica says with a pout.

"I don't think her new husband would appreciate that very much," Keith answers. "They're very happy. As am I."

Veronica swallows her nausea and turns away to dial the phone. Wallace answers on the second ring.

"Mr. Mars?"

"That'll be _Ms._ Mars to you," she answers, already feeling her tension loosen at the sound of her BFF's voice. "So guess what?"

"What?" He asks, in an exaggeratedly excited voice.

"I'm home. You want to get something to eat later?"

Wallace suggests a steakhouse recently opened in the shopping district, and offers to pass the word along to Mac and Weevil, since she's never memorized their numbers. After finalizing their plans, she hangs up and tosses the phone back to her father.

"Veronica…"

"No." She holds up a hand. "Let's not discuss this anymore. I have a few hours to kill before dinner. Want to go to the office?"

* * *

**Mars Investigations**

Mar's Investigations is exactly as Veronica remembers. She lingers for a moment in the puddles of colored light streaming through the stained glass windows. She's always loved those windows.

"So…" she begins. "What am I supposed to do for a desk?"

"Let's see how things go." Keith answers, leaning on the arm of the couch. "The place next store is vacant. If you decide you're going to stick around, maybe we can knock down a wall and expand."

She contemplates this. Doesn't seem like an altogether bad idea.

"For now?" Keith shrugs, leaves the room, and returns a moment later with a box. "Let's clear off Terry's desk for you."

He begins clearing items from the top of the receptionist's desk, and Veronica jumps in to help.  
"How about you finish this up, and I'll go buy a smaller desk for Terry?" He looks around. "We can put it over there." He points to an area between the door and the small kitchen.

Keith leaves, and Veronica continues to clear off the desk, already lost in thought. How had she lived without this all of these years? Why had she ever thought a regimented environment would be a good fit for her? This is where she belongs. This is her calling.

The desktop emptied, she cleans off the top with a Clorox wipe, before retrieving her laptop from her bag, and plugging it in.

She loses track of time, reviewing case files she'd swiped before quitting her job. When she hears the door open, she glances up, expecting her father. Instead, a stunning black woman enters with a cute little boy of around eight years old. Her long hair is pulled back on the sides, and she wears a classic wrap-dress in a shade of emerald.

"Jackie Cook!" Veronica says, walking around the desk to greet her. "Fresh from the Sorbonne?"

Jackie flashes an embarrassed smile. "Good to see you, Veronica."

"Hate to break it to you, but we're supposed to be aging. You don't look a day older than you used to."

"Like you're one to talk." Jackie grins and pulls Veronica in for a hug, and then gestures to the boy. "My son, Michael."

"Pleased to meet you, Michael," Veronica says, and is surprised by his firm handshake.

"How can I help you, Jackie?"

"I'm here to hire you."

"Were you staking out the office or something?" Veronica asks wrinkling up her face, "Because I just got back into town today."

"No, just a coincidence. I only got back today as well."

Veronica offers Michael a seat on the couch and brings him some printer paper and a pencil to keep him occupied.

"So what's going on?" Veronica asks, sitting across the desk from Jackie.

"It's my father. He's being framed."

"Shocker. What for this time?"

"Game fixing."

"Um...didn't he come right out and admit to the game fixing?"

"In the past, yes. He's completely innocent this time."

"What happened?"

"He's been coaching baseball over at Hearst for the past few years. It's not glamorous, but it at least allows him to work with his passion again."

"Okay?"

"So they played their annual rivalry game a few weeks back against Balboa U. Hearst was the clear favorite to win. They were undefeated for the season, and Balboa has an abysmal record."

"Go on."

"Well, Hearst not only lost, but lost badly. Bad pitches. Nobody could catch a ball."

"And based on your father's history, they assumed he bet money against the team and fixed the game."

"Exactly. He's been fired, and might be facing criminal charges."

"You're positive he didn't rig the game?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll see what I can do." Veronica rises to retrieve a contract from Keith's desk.

"So how've you been these days?" she asks, as she fills out the form. "Married?"

"No, never married. You?"

"Only to my job." Veronica answers. "But we're in the middle of an ugly divorce right now."

Jackie winces in sympathy.

"So…" she starts.

"Wallace?" Veronica guesses.

"I'm that transparent?"

"It's only natural you'd ask. He's still in town. Divorced. He was married to Jane Kuhne for a while, but she went a little batty. Became scarily possessive towards the end."

Jackie has the good judgment not to comment. She's experienced Jane's jealousy.

"Hey, I'm having dinner with Wallace this evening. You should come along."

Momentarily, Jackie's eyes light up, but she stuffs it down. "Wallace never wants to see me again."

"He said that?"

"That's the last thing he ever said to me. Do me a favor. Don't mention to him that you've seen me."

"But he's-"

"I know he's your best friend, but why hurt him unnecessarily?"

"I'll keep quiet on one condition."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"You contact him yourself."

Jackie sighs. "Give me tonight to think about it, okay? I'll let you know tomorrow."

"I can give you tonight," Veronica agrees.

They conclude their business, and Veronica promises to stay in contact.

Keith returns minutes later dragging a small pressboard desk behind him. "Found it at a garage sale," he says excitedly, "Ten bucks!"

Veronica groans and shakes her head. "Well, at least it's not a water bed."

* * *

**A/N **Alright, I know a lot of you don't like Jackie, but she only plays a small part in this fic. And hey, I made Duncan bearable, right?


	3. Ep1 Pt2 Neptune Wasn't Waiting

**Neptune**

* * *

**Episode One/Part Two: Neptune Wasn't Waiting**

* * *

**Razia's Steakhouse - Neptune**

The interior of Razia's Steakhouse has an industrial vibe, with brick walls, an exposed ceiling, and gleaming stainless steel fixtures everywhere. The air is thick with the tantalizing aromas of grilling beef and freshly baked dinner rolls.

Wallace and Weevil are seated at a corner table, but both stand as Veronica approaches. She takes a second to examine their faces, and it's as if they've traded places. Weevil seems…easier. Relaxed. He no longer emits that vibe like he's expecting a knife between his shoulder blades at any moment. Wallace, on the other hand, has misplaced his natural…floppsiness. A huge smile spreads across his face, but a lingering sadness lives in his eyes now. He's never quite recovered from his divorce, although it's been nearly a year. He pulls her into a tight hug, adding an extra squeeze. "Been too long, girl," he says.

"It hasn't even been a month since you were in San Diego, dork."

"Like I said," He says with a laugh. "Too long."

Weevil flashes her a slow lopsided grin, gives her his patented once-over, and then holds out one arm. "Get over here, girl." He pulls her in for a loose hug, giving her a few gentle pats on the back. He smells good. Expensive.

_Keep any suspicions about criminal activities to yourself, Veronica._

Veronica slides into her chair, and reaches for the burgundy leather-bound menu. It opens to a list of appetizers.

_Proceed with small talk in 3…2…1… _"Nice place. When did it open?"

"Ehh...month or two ago?" Weevil answers, distractedly rubbing the top of his head. "Supposedly the chef is some big deal, but who keeps up with that stuff? "

Wallace touches her forearm. "Don't even bother with the menu. They serve this Asiago covered steak you have to taste to believe."

"Say no more." Veronica closes her menu with a flourish. "That was easy."

"So, how long has it been, V?" Weevil saves his place in the menu with his finger, and glances up at her. "Couple years?" He's back to wearing the small gold hoop earrings.

"Um...I've been gone for six. But I know I saw you at least once..." She trails off trying to remember when she ran into him last. "Three...No, four years ago. At Neptune General Hospital after my dad had that car accident. You were in the lobby, but you didn't have time to chat. Said you had somewhere important to be."

She pauses for a beat, giving Weevil a chance to explain himself, but he waits her out.

"You kind of ran off without an explanation."

"Had somewhere important to be." He shrugs, and she knows it's the most she's going to get out of him. At least through direct channels.

She turns to Wallace. "Where's Mac?"

"Couldn't make it. Had to work late tonight, but she said to give her a call tomorrow."

"She skipped dinner with her oldest girlfriend to work late?"

"Don't be too hard on her," Wallace says. "You know she's pretty much doing two jobs over at Casablancas."

"Two jobs?"

"Dick is more of a…_figurehead_ than an actual CEO."

Veronica shakes her head. "I still don't quite understand how she ended up working for _him_."

"She's paid very very well. Big Dick…" Wallace stops and makes a face at his choice of words. "…Dick Sr. found himself another trophy wife and wanted to retire to the Caymans, so he gave Little Dick six months to prove he could keep the company afloat."

"Which of course he couldn't," Veronica supplies.

"Well, he's smart enough to know when he needs help. He'd seen what Mac and Lo—" His eyes flick away uncomfortably. "…um…her…other business partner…were able to pull off, so he begged her to come work for him."

Their waitress, a petite brunette wearing a white button-up and black pants arrives to take their drink orders. Since all three already know what they want, they submit their meal orders as well. Wallace and Veronica order the Asiago Steak with salads and baked potatoes. Weevil goes with a T-Bone and French Fries."

Her phone buzzes, displaying a text message from her partner - former partner now - Joe Lopez.

**Why is your apartment empty? Not even a goodbye?**

_I suppose I should have said goodbye. But it's not like we were serious. It was a casual fling. Good sex. Mutual respect. Not much in the way of romantic feelings._

She expects he'll text again, or even worse, call, so she turns off the phone and stuffs it in her bag._  
_

_I'll deal with you later. I suppose. __Wish you would have had my back at the end._

Veronica feels Wallace's eyes on her and glances over at him.

"You look beat to hell," he says. "Have you been sleeping?"

She smiles weakly. "Exhaustion." _Of the soul. _"And a bad case of insomnia."

Aware the conversation will soon turn to her presence in Neptune, Veronica buys herself some time, turning to Wallace.

"So...Mr. Basketball coach. School's starting back up soon. You excited to go back to work or dreading it."

Wallace grins. "I'm actually stoked. I'll be coaching the JV team this year."

"That's a step up?"

"From the freshman team? You bet." Wallace says. "You know, I've been coaching basketball camp all summer, so it's not like I haven't been working"

"How about you, Weevil? Still doing rim jobs?" she asks with a smirk and an arched brow.

Weevil grins and shakes his head. "In a manner of speaking. You're looking at the Director of Fleet Services."

"What is Fleet Services?"

"Um...the city owns well over 300 vehicles and pieces of equipment. Fleet buys them, and keeps them garaged, fueled, and maintained."

"Weevil…" Veronica lowers her voice and shields her mouth with her hand as if telling a secret. "You're a felon. You can't work a government job."

Weevil shrugs and flashes a secretive smile. "I know people, V."

Veronica is about to interrogate him further, when their food arrives. She holds up a finger to remind him she's not done with that line of questioning, but once she takes a bite of her Asiago Steak, she can't even remember what day it is. The steak is to die for.

They talk for a while about current events. More than once, the boys exchange side-eyed glances, as if to stop each other from mentioning something – or someone – off-limits. Of course, she wants to know, but she's torn between unbearable curiosity and self-preservation.

"So, I hear you're a hotshot homicide detective these days," Weevil says between bites. "How's that going?"

"Actually..." Veronica stares at her plate. "I'm a private investigator these days."

"Wait…" Wallace puts down his fork. "What're you saying?"

She sighs. She'll have to get used to explaining herself. At least a watered-down version of the truth. "My dad hired me back."

Nobody says anything.

"I'm home! Tada! Let the celebrations commence."

Wallace looks confused, and Weevil looks…_worried?_

"Balloons? Confetti? Skywriting?"

Silence.

"Nothing?"

"So what happened to your day job?" Wallace finally asks.

"Too much death. I burned out." She shoves a bite of steak in her mouth, chewing slowly to avoid any more questions.

It's one of the hardest things she's ever had to say. Invincible Veronica Mars does not burn out. It is, however, an easier explanation than '_I'm hiding out from a serial killer with an unhealthy interest in me. A serial killer nobody else believes exists.'_

She swallows and changes the subject. "So Wallace, how's the love life? Dating anybody new?"

Her curiosity is twofold - he's had a rough year since his divorce. He hadn't wanted to leave, but he could no longer live with Jane's constant suspicion - especially once she'd started accusing him of affairs with his married coworkers. Secondly, if he's dating someone, Jackie's reappearance might not be so catastrophic.

"Nope, not dating anybody yet, but hopefully my luck will change Saturday night,"

"What's Saturday night?"

"The Neptunalia, girl." He grins widely, and this time the smile reaches his eyes. "Where some lucky lady will have the opportunity to bid on yours truly in the Bachelor Auction."

Veronica almost spits out her drink. "Bachelor's Auction? As in, you get auctioned off like livestock?"

Wallace shakes his head, holds up a hand in protest. "As in... It's one date, and it's for charity. Half of the proceeds go to the Neptune Food Bank, and the other half goes to a charity of my choice, which - if you're interested - is the basketball camp for underprivileged kids where I've been volunteering."

"Well, I'm sure those children will appreciate your sacrifice when you go out on a date with a psycho and never come back."

"Veronica, don't be like that."

"When will the date be?"

"You don't want to answer that," Weevil says.

"Well...the auction is Friday night, so the dates will be on Saturday."

"I can work with that," Veronica says.

Weevil shakes his head in amusement. "I warned you."

"Girl, what are you thinking?" Wallace asks.

"I'm thinking background check."

Wallace covers his eyes with his hands for a moment and then removes them with an exhale.

"When and where is this auction?" Veronica asks.

"Friday, 8:00 PM, main stage at the fairgrounds."

"I'll be there."

"This is a bad idea," Weevil says.

"Why?"

"Don't you even _think_ about bidding on me," Wallace warns, waggling a finger at her. "I'm kinda excited to be dipping my toe back into the dating pool."

"Just skip the auction, V," Weevil says.

"You seem more personally invested in keeping me away than he is. Why? Will you be one of the shiny bachelors being auctioned off?"

Weevil gives her that _'are-you-sniffing-glue?'_ look he's so good at. "No, but I'm working the lights. I'm just sayin' you're gonna cramp his style and embarrass him."

"Would I do that?" Veronica tries to look putout.

They both level a stare at her.

"Fine…" Veronica sighs in capitulation. "I promise I won't bid on you. Unless, it looks like some whack-a-doo is going to buy you."

"Will you be tailing him on his date as well?" Weevil asks. "Three cars back with night vision goggles?"

"Depends on the results of the background check," Veronica fires back.

Weevil's phone rings. The corners of his lips turn up almost imperceptibly until he notices Veronica watching. "Excuse me for a minute," he says, standing and leaving the table.

_What's that all about, and when did he get all sneaky?_

"I'll be right back," Veronica says. "Need to use the restroom."

Wallace shakes his head. "Just can't resist, can you?"

On her way to the bathroom, Veronica finds Weevil in the bar, leaning against the wall and holding his phone to his ear. He looks relaxed and amused, so maybe the phone call is nothing to worry about. She continues on to the bathroom.

When she returns to the table, Weevil still hasn't returned.

"Where's my food?"

"What food? Your plate was empty."

"Hey, I still had two bites of baked potato left," Veronica complained.

Wallace shakes his head. "Eat your salad. It's good for you, and you've barely touched it."

"I would." Veronica says with a pout, "But they took my silverware too."

She flags down their server and asks for another set of silverware as Weevil returns to the table.

"What was all of that about?" Veronica asks.

Weevil shakes his head. "Still nosy as ever, I see. It was a friend."

"Of the female persuasion?"

"No. Moving on. So you're going back into the P.I. biz?"

"Moving on, for now. I'll circle back around later." Veronica warns. "And yes. I already have a case."

"Oh yeah? Anything interesting?"

"Can't really talk about the details," she says, avoiding Wallace's eyes, "but it has to do with Hearst, so I guess I'll be spending some time at my old stomping grounds."

"Good luck with that," Weevil chuckles.

"What's that supposed to mean."

"I was still working there up until the end of last year. They really cranked up security."

"How so?"

"You'll need a Hearst ID to get past the guard house. Otherwise, you'll have to go through the Visitor's Center."

"So? I'll go to the Visitor's Center."

"They'll only give you a visitor's pass if you're accompanied by a student or a faculty member."

"Damn. Now what?"

Weevil thinks for a minute. "I'll tell you what. I still have my old Hearst ID card. I can drop it off at your dad's place in the morning, but you'll have to switch out the photo and re-laminate it."

"Well aren't you Mr. Helpful."

"Feels just like old times," Weevil deadpans.

* * *

**Mars Residence:**

Veronica feels weary to the bone when she arrives back at her dad's house. She's been dragging for months now, but had hoped that returning home cure her of the '_blahs_'.

_Home. This is home now._

"Veronica, is that you?" Keith calls out from the kitchen.

"Who else would be here?" Veronica asks and then groans. "No. Don't answer that." She plops down onto the couch next to Backup, and scratches him in his favorite spot behind his ear.

"You need anything? Water? Tea?" Keith steps into the living room wearing a nice vertically striped button-down and a pair of jeans.

_Is he going out? It's almost 11:00 PM. If he goes out now, it's a...Oh…I'm think I'm going to be sick._

She holds up a palm. "No thanks. I'm good."

Keith sits at Veronica's other side and puts an arm around her. "So how was dinner?"

_Is that cologne?_

"The food was delicious."

Backup wiggles forward to put his head on her lap.

_God, I've missed this dog._

"And the company?"

She hesitates. "It was great to see Wallace and Weevil."

"I sense a '_but_'. Want to tell me about it?"

Veronica flashes him a self-deprecating smile. "Just having a little pity party for one."

"Well that's your problem. You should never party alone. Talk to me."

"Aren't you worried about being late to your booty call?" She asks with barely hidden hostility.

"She can wait."

"The correct response would have been: _'what is a booty call? I'm on my way out to meet a client, who just happens to be nocturnal'_."

Keith shoots her a _quit-deluding-yourself_ look. "What's really bugging you, Veronica?"

"Besides this?" she waves her hand at Keith's attire.

"Yes, besides that."

"No matter how I say it, it's going to sound selfish."

"Hey. I'm your father. If you can't sound selfish to me, you can't to anybody."

"Okay…" Veronica lets out a sigh, and glances over at her dad. "You know, I was never really happy in homicide."

Keith nods in understanding. He'd warned her years ago that it might not be the right fit for her.

"I was proud of myself for getting there at such a young age. I was good at it. I was intellectually challenged. But it was ugly work, and it started to eat away at my soul"

Keith's arm tightens around her shoulder.

"I think subconsciously I always felt like I'd only _'pressed pause'_ on Neptune. Like I could slip right back into my old life at a moment's notice, hit play, and pick up right where I left off."

"Okay?" Keith prods her to continue.

Veronica closes her eyes and exhales. "Neptune wasn't waiting for me."

Keith hugs her tightly. "You're finding that your friends went on with their lives while you were gone?"

"They're all so changed," she answers in frustration. "There used to be a certain order to things."

"Everybody had their purpose. Compartments"

"Well when you put it that way, it sounds mercenary. But yeah, in a way."

She holds up a finger. "Wallace. My sidekick. The optimist. Pulled me back from going to the dark side more times than I can count." She counts out a second finger. "Weevil. co-conspirator. Doer of favors. Connections to the criminal element." She counts out a third finger. "Mac. Q to my Bond. Research. Tech support."

"You forgot someone." Keith says gently.

She opens her mouth to speak, but doesn't know what to say, so she shakes her head and pretends he hasn't spoken.

"It's not like I didn't give anything back. I tempered Wallace's optimism with my realism and kept him anchored. I cleared Weevil's name more than once and helped him find a job and get his act together. I helped Mac out of some jams."

Keith's knowing gaze makes her squirm. "So how has everyone changed?"

"Wallace is divorced and jaded. Weevil's gone legit - he's working a city job, for God's sake. Mac didn't even show up."

"So, it sounds like you used to fill certain niches for your friends, but once you were gone, they found other ways to fill them."

Veronica considers her father's statement. "That sounds right."

"You don't think they need you anymore."

"They don't."

"They do, Veronica. Just not in ways that you're comfortable with."

"What's that supposed to mean."

Keith shifts to be able to look Veronica in the eyes, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. "You thrive on solving problems and have people come to you for help."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"You want your friends to need you, but not if it means giving something of yourself away."

"But..." She trails off. She has no idea how to respond to that.

"Veronica, relationships aren't built on favor-trading. How are they supposed to feel your absence if you never let them in?"

Veronica sighs. "In my head, I know you're right. I guess it's something I need to work on."

"You're all functioning adults now. Wallace has had a rough year. He doesn't need a fixer. He needs emotional support. The same will be true for the rest of your friends."

"Well then thank God they have each other," she says, aware that she sounds bitter. "They're great friends now."

"You were used to being the sun they all orbited around."

She glances up at her father, both impressed by his perception and embarrassed by the truth of it.

"That might have been the case once upon a time."

"And you're feeling left out."

"I guess. You know, they have all these new shared experiences that I wasn't a part of. They communicate nonverbally. They cut each other off with glances."

Keith smiles slightly and nods as if unsurprised. "In their defense, you've trained us on what subjects are off-limits. You only have to ask, Veronica."

"I know." She sighs. "Not yet. I'm not ready."

"I know you don't want to admit you care, but maybe part of this alienation you're feeling is self-imposed. Expecting the worst will only eat you up inside."

Keith rises from the couch. "When you're ready to talk - whether about that, or about the reason you're back home - I'll be here, and I'll back you up no matter what."

She smiles sadly. "I know. You always do."

"I have to head out."

"Dad, aren't you a little old for this?"

"Veronica. I agreed to keep her out of your face. I never agreed to stop seeing her."

He kisses Veronica on the temple, and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. "I'll see you in the morning," he says before heading out.

Veronica answers to the closed door. "How can I expect the worst, when I still haven't decided which possibility is the most awful?"

* * *

**A/N: **Much love to ShanghaiLily, for beta-ing all of the chapters and helping me get past a few mental blocks.

**A/N2: **I'm still working hard on the next chapter of _Sometimes_. Took a break because I knew I could put out a chapter for this story faster, but I'll get right back to that one. Promise. Those huge chapters take forever.

**A/N3: **You all blow me away. Can't believe the number of reviews, follows and favs for one chapter and a tiny prologue. Trust me, this story might be starting out slowly, but I'll make it worth your while. Craziness to follow soon. LOTS of it.


	4. Ep1 Pt3 The Wizard of Neptune

**Neptune**

* * *

**Episode One/Part Three – The Wizard of Neptune**

* * *

Veronica wakes to the sounds of Motown - The Temptations, she thinks - and the mouth-watering aroma of frying bacon. Disoriented at first - she can't remember the last time she woke up to anything other than a silent, empty apartment - she eventually remembers coming home to Neptune.

_Home._

She spends several seconds indulging in the images of old cartoons where scents waft through the air in currents of white curly smoke with beckoning fingers at the end. Were she a character in one of those cartoons, she would rise from bed now, eyes still closed, arms extended zombie-style to follow the scent, narrowly escaping disasters such as open manhole covers, swinging I-beams, and falling pianos, perhaps with the help of Backup to nudge her out of the way.

She opens her eyes. _Nope still in bed._

She briefly debates the merits of remaining in a warm comfy bed vs. bacon. Of course, the bacon wins out.

Padding down the hall in pajamas and footie socks, she lingers in the doorway to watch her father kitchen-dance to '_Papa Was a Rolling Stone_'.

_You still have the moves old man, but if catch you doing James Brown jump splits, I'm intervening. _

Two crossover steps and a spin takes him to the stainless steel stove, where he pokes at the sizzling bacon with a pair of orange silicon-coated tongs.

He turns around, noticing Veronica. "Good morning, o' fruit of my loins," he says, lowering the volume on the under-cabinet CD player.

"Don't," Veronica shudders exaggeratedly and holds up a hand in protest. "There's a reason that term is antiquated."

"How was your sleep?" Keith approaches, examining her face with concerned eyes.

_Not good, but nowhere near as rocky as usual._

"I slept fine." She eyes the pan with interest. "I don't suppose some of that bacon just might be for me?"

"Help yourself." Keith gives her a quick tour of the small kitchen opening honey-toned cabinets and drawers to show her where to find silverware, dishes, and most importantly, coffee pods.

Minutes later, she's seated at the table across from her father with a plate of bacon and a fresh cup of hazelnut coffee. She pointedly avoids his eyes while considering potential conversation starters.

'_How was the booty call_?'

'_Are you two crazy kids using protection?_'

'_I guess it's a little late for that birds and bees talk?'_

Keith breaks the ice. "So, should we do the whole carpool to the office thing?"

"Can't. Weevil's dropping off his old Hearst ID badge for me this morning. I'll have to meet you there later."

"Okay." Keith nods. "Well, since you'll be here anyway, the phone company is sending somebody to fix the landline. Can you let him in?"

"Or her," Veronica answers, sipping from her coffee.

"Or her," Keith corrects.

"Not a problem. I'll humor your over-reliance upon old-fashioned communication devices."

"Says the girl whose cell phone battery died yesterday."

She points at him. "Touché"

Keith leaves for the office, and after spending a few minutes cleaning up, Veronica showers and gets ready for the day.

* * *

The Keurig machine whirs and gurgles as Veronica brews another cup of coffee and checks her cell.

She'd forgotten to power the phone back on after dinner last night, and now finds three more texts and a voicemail from her partner-slash-sometimes lover, Joe.

Conflicted between guilt and annoyance, her lips press together in a thin slash. After two years of being partners, she owes him an explanation, but she's still angry with him for letting her down when she needed him to have her back.

She makes the decision to get this over with, sighing and dropping down into a chair.

He answers on the first ring. "Veronica? Where are you?"

"Neptune. At my dad's house." She circles the rim of her mug with her index finger.

"Okay. Alright. So you're taking some time? How long do you think you'll be away?"

Silence.

Silence.

Deep breath.

"I'm not coming back." She pulls the napkin from under her coffee spoon, halving it, and running a fingernail against the fold.

"WHAT?" Well acquainted with his legendary temper, she imagines him erupting from his chair to pace.

"I'm. Just. Done." She begins twisting the napkin. "Turned in my resignation. Paid the last month on my lease. Hired the movers and forwarded my mail.

Silence.

He exhales, probably forcing himself to speak calmly. "Why are you doing this, Veronica?"

"You know why."

"The Veronica I know doesn't let herself be chased away by one case."

_And there you go, pissing me off again. _

"It's not _just_ one case! He's a serial. And he's fixated on me." She says, icily.

"We've talked about this." She can literally _hear_ his eye roll.

"No!" Her voice rises in pitch. "I talked! You ignored me. All you had to do was back me up and convince Burns to call in a profiler. One tiny request."

"It's a series of coincidences. Nothing more." His pained, long-suffering sigh pushes her too far.

"I'm done. I have to go."

"Wait!"

"I'm _done_ Joe. It's not just about the case. I'm. Burnt. Out. I can't remember the last time I was actually happy." The napkin is now twisted into a tight rope, and she begins coiling it cinnamon bun style.

"What about me?"

_Was that an actual whine?_

"You'll get a new partner. Maybe not as talented as me, but…"

"What about _us_?"

_Definitely a whine. _

"_Us?_ Joe, there is no us."

"What do you call these last months?"

"Unprofessional? A mistake?"

"Don't."

"It was sex, Joe. A releasing of physical tension. Nothing more." She untwists the napkin, and begins ripping it into long, even strips.

He answers quietly. "Not for me."

_Bullshit._

"Don't try to pull that. We weren't dating. We weren't exchanging house keys. We weren't even spending the night. You didn't want anything serious any more than I did." She realizes she's clenching her jaw, and tries to relax.

"No!" He stabs out the word. "That's what I let you think. That was the only way I could have you, and I didn't want to scare you away."

"Joe, don't do this."

"I care about you, Veronica. I need you in my life," he says with a hint of desperation.

Veronica sighs. _Why are you doing this?_

"Listen. I'm angry with you for refusing to trust my instincts. But I'm not purposely trying to hurt you. I thought we were on the same page. This wasn't some deep emotional love affair. We had good sex, but developing any type of _feelings_ would have interfered with our ability to catch killers. So I didn't allow it to happen."

"I can't let you go. I won't."

_Won't let me? Do you realize who you're talking to?_

"And now? You're starting to creep me out. Goodbye Joe." She disconnects the call, and drops her face into her hands, allowing herself the luxury of a good wallow for a few minutes before finally rising, and cleaning up the napkin shreds.

_Well that was unpleasant._

She'd never intended to get involved with her partner. Sure, his good looks had been the first thing she'd noticed about him when they'd been assigned, but he'd been dating a model at the time, and she'd been dating Pete, the third in a line of long-term_ 'nice-guy'_ boyfriends. While she'd respected Joe as a partner, and his ability to get the job done, she hadn't liked him very much as a person. His tendency to shift blame for every problem in his life grated on her. Everything that went wrong was because of his parents, or his first girlfriend, or the kid who stole his lunch money in second grade.

One night, shaken by the case they'd caught earlier - the murder of a seven year old girl - and fresh off her breakup with Pete, they'd found themselves at the bar doing tequila shots. She remembers taking him in - his dark eyes, cocky smile - and thinking _'Nice Guy hasn't worked out, maybe it's time to try Bad Boy again. For tonight_.' The sex had been a marked improvement over Pete, but even better had been when he'd acted as if nothing had changed when showed up for work the next day.

He was never supposed to develop feelings for her, because he had never been a viable boyfriend option.

* * *

The knock at the front door startles Veronica out of her thoughts, causing her hand to jerk and almost overturn her now lukewarm coffee.

_I'm rattled way too easily these days. _

She laughs at her own paranoia and pushes away from the table to let Weevil in. He looks good, but she stares at him for a moment, disconcerted. Like everything else since she's been back, his appearance feels...odd...to her. More proof Neptune has moved on without her.

"What, V?" he asks, amused by her expression. "Didn't think I knew how to iron a shirt?"

"You iron?" She says in the tone of voice usually reserved for something like: _'you do particle physics?'_

"Nah." He grins. "I've got this steam contraption-thingy. Two minutes flat. Don't even need to take the shirt off the hanger."

"Awesome, remind me to send you home with my laundry." She steps aside to let him in, catching another whiff of his woodsy cologne. "Coffee?"

"I wish I could," he says, handing her a card, still warm from his pocket. "...but I need to be at work in fifteen minutes."

She examines the card. White, with a thick red border, it contains the Hearst logo, a photo, and Weevil's name. Luckily, it's laminated, rather than one of the newer magnetic PVC cards. A spring-loaded clamp looped through a cutout allows it to be attached to clothing. "So this is more of a security badge than an ID card."

"Yeah, red border is for staff, blue would be for students." Weevil reaches out a thick fingertip to touch the badge. "You'll want to work a little Photoshop magic to change out the name and photo, but you'll get past the guardhouse as long as they don't examine it too closely."

"Excellent."

"Wait, let me think…" He pauses. "The guards - you see a short man with blond hair and a huge nose, turn around and leave. Pretend you don't have your card or something. He comes across as a nice guy, but he'll call the cops on you in a heartbeat for having the forgery."

"Sounds like a winner."

"His name's Milo Adderly, and you have no idea what a prick he can be." His face twists in disgust at the mere mention of the name. "I'll find out when my buddy Cody is on duty. That'll be the best time to go. Just smile at him and do that head tilt thing, and he'll barely glance at the card. He's a tall guy. Burly. Reddish hair. One of those stubborn chins that makes him look like an asshole. He's not, though."

"If you have a buddy in the guard house, why are we bothering with this ID badge thing?"

"Uh uh," he said, shaking his head emphatically to make his point. "No. If you get caught, I don't want you taking anybody down with you. They take security very seriously these days."

"I understand," she said. She'd do this his way. For now. She could push later - if necessary.

She stops him on the way out the door. "By the way, what is that cologne you're wearing?"

"Um..." His eyes move up and to the right, in a way she's come to recognize as visualizing something from memory. "Stuff's called Oud Azur." He spells it for her. "By Krigler. Why? Want to buy some for that special man in your life?"

"No, just curious. It's nice. And there's really only one special man in my life - you might know him - short, bald guy?" She laughs at the widening of his eyes. "The _other _short, bald guy. And if I were in the market to buy cologne for him, it would smell like skunks and mildew and spoiled milk. The perfect touch for nights with _his _special lady friend."

Weevil laughs heartily as he backs down the steps. "Yeah, I figured you'd disapprove of that relationship."

"Disapproval is putting it mildly."

* * *

Weevil drives away in a red classic Mustang, and Veronica goes to work on the ID badge, running a blade carefully along the edge of the laminate, and extracting the cardstock with a pair of tweezers. After connecting to her father's flatbed scanner and importing the image, she spends the next hour meticulously Photoshopping a Hearst badge in the name of _Dottie Hinson_. Finally, pleased with the results, she prints it out to cardstock.

She dials her dad on her cell while comparing her version of the badge to Weevil's.

_Damn. The font is a little off and I'll have to darken the photo. _

"Mars Investigations," her father answers. "Keith Mars speaking."

"Dad, it's me." She enters the kitchen, contemplating whether to brew a third cup of coffee.

"What's up?"

She decides to check the fridge first. "How could I go about getting an ID badge laminated?"

"Just go to Kinkos or Office Max like everybody else."

There, in the back is a lone can of Skist. _Jackpot! _"Can't. It's for the Jackie Cook case. I can't walk into a Kinkos and ask them to laminate a card for me to bypass Hearst campus security."

He lets out an amused sigh. "Back one day and already finding ways to break the law."

"I turned in my law-abiding ways along with my badge. Renegade looks better on me."

Keith chuckles. "I seem to remember you having a collection of ID cards. License massage therapist, if I recall?"

"Hey, I happen to give fairly adequate massages, thank you very much, and before you ask, no, I will not rub your feet. Anyway, those all came by mail. I don't have the luxury of waiting for this one."

She brings up the Office Max site on her laptop, clicking the link for laminating machines. Fifteen results display. She clicks the 'Available for Store Pickup' checkbox to narrow the selection down to four.

"Maybe I'll just swing by Office Max later and pick up a laminator. They have four in-store models."

"Wait. Before you do, tell me about the original ID. Can you loosely fold it?" Keith asks.

Veronica thinks about how much force she'd had to apply to the blade in order to slice through the card. "No. It was thick and unbendable - like drivers licenses used to be before they switched to PVC.

"Okay, sounds like 10 mil. You don't have to worry about width, but most laminating machines have a max thickness as well."

She skims the four remaining selections. "Damn. They all say 3 - 5 mil."

"You'll probably need a commercial thermal laminator for this. Bill Schroder used to make these for me, but he picked up shop and moved to Vegas. Tell you what, I'll call around to some of my contacts and see if I can locate one for you."

"Thanks, dad. You're the best!" The soda makes a hissing sound as she pops the top open.

"I do accept foot rubs as payment."

Veronica screws up her face. "That is literally made of eww."

"Speaking of identification…" Keith changes the subject.

She pauses on the verge of taking a sip. "Yes?"

"What's the status of your PI license?"

"I don't know. It has to be expired by now, right?" She retrieves the strongbox where she stores her most important documents from the closet shelf in her room, and brings it back to the kitchen table, flipping on the bright overhead light on the way.

"You'll need to get it reinstated. In order to add you to the agency's insurance policy, you need to be legal."

"Okay, I'll get on that." She flicks the combination lock to 3188, opens the lid, and begins rifling through papers inside.

"Wait…" Keith says. "I'm looking at the FAQs on the website right now…'_How long after the expiration of my license am I able to renew it?'" _

"So what's the answer?" She sets things in a pile as she empties the box. High school diploma...birth certificate...a handful of old love letters - two in a careful blocky script, the rest in a dramatic flowing script...

Keith continues reading. "_If, after three years, you fail to renew a delinquent license, you must submit a new application and begin the application process again."_

"Well, that's encouraging." Her eyes fall upon the document in question. "Oh here it is."

"You found it?"

"Yeah." She examines the document, does the math in her head, and then groans in frustration. "It expired three years and two months ago."

She can hear the wince in Keith's voice. "You missed it by only two months?"

"Looks like it. I can't believe I have to start the entire process all over again. This could take _months_."

"On the plus side, maybe you'll be able to beat my score this time."

"Not funny, old man. I would have beaten it last time if—" The sound of the doorbell interrupts her. "That's the door. I'll call you back."

* * *

She sets down her cell and uses both hands to hurriedly shove papers back into the strongbox, closing and locking the lid before rushing to answer the door.

The tall man in a service uniform on the front steps offers Veronica a friendly smile as she opens the door. He opens his mouth to introduce himself, and then freezes, eyes widening.

"Veronica Mars?" Apparently, her presence is a surprise for him, and not the balloons and noisemakers type.

"Yes?"

"Wow. I didn't…" He glances down in confusion at the paperwork on his clipboard. "I would have sent another technician, but the service order says Mark Keith." He turns the clipboard to show the form to Veronica.

"That's Mars, Keith," she says, sparing a glance at the form. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"You don't remember me?" He seems surprised.

_Why? Were you thinking you'd left an indelible mark upon my psyche?_ "You look vaguely familiar."

"Rick Smith." He stares at his feet, as if severely uncomfortable. "Um…we had that…incident…in high school."

"Well now you've narrowed it down to only _half _of the student body. Can you be more specific?"

He seems relieved to not be remembered, moving down a step, and poised to leave. "How about I send somebody else to fix your phone line? I can probably get somebody here by tomorrow afternoon."

_What did I do to you to make you so eager to get away from me? "_Does my breath stink or something?" She cups a hand over her mouth and breathes. "Should I be offended here?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I just figured you wouldn't want me around." He moves down another step to ground level.

"Wait! I do know you!"

He squirms under her intense gaze.

"You're the guy who almost got me charged with a felony, and tried to blame it on a secret society - the Tritons."

"Yeah…" He exhales, and looks up with remorseful eyes. "I'm that guy."

_He still seems just as pathetic. _

He moves back up one step with his hands held up in a goodwill gesture. "Listen. I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart."

She waits him out.

"I'm not trying to make excuses, but that was one of the worst periods of my life. Everything was falling apart. My dad being fired and arrested. My parents' divorce. I was drinking all the time and acting out."

Veronica narrows her eyes. "I could have been charged with a felony."

"I know, and I am so sorry."

_He does seem sincere. _

"What happened after you were busted?"

"They lowered the charges to a misdemeanor and sentenced me to six months community service. I ended up finishing school at Pan High."

"Of course you got a slap on the wrist," she says bitterly. "You were an 09er. Did you even consider that Lamb would have thrown the book at me?"

"No. I swear! Everything just got out of hand. I thought that maybe you'd get detention. A suspension at the most." He nervously wiggles his fingernails between the carbons on the service order form.

_But did I consider the possible consequences when I planted a bong in a certain locker? _

Rick steps backwards again. "I'll just call back to the office and see what I can do about rearranging appointments. Maybe we can get another guy in here this afternoon?"

_I intimidate the hell out of him. _

_Good. _

"Yeah. You do that." Veronica says dryly.

"Sorry for wasting your time." He gives a small apologetic wave and walks to the pale gray minivan painted with the red and white '_SoCal Telecom Specialists_' logo.

Veronica turns to close the door.

_I remember being less upset by the set-up than by the fact that they were trying to pass off obvious fakes as my work. _

The door is halfway closed when it occurs to her. She spins around and jogs down the front steps to the driveway. Rick is still at the end of the driveway waiting for an approaching car to pass. When he sees her waving, he pulls back forward and lowers his window. "Something wrong?"

"The laminating machine. What did you do with it?"

"The one we used for the fake ids?"

"Yes." She motions for him to spit it out.

He looks up, thinking. "I don't know. It's probably up in my mom's dusty attic. She never throws anything away. Why?"

"I need an ID card laminated. Like immediately." At the expression of alarm in his eyes, she holds up her hand in reassurance. "No, not a government-issued ID. A college ID. For a case."

He still seems hesitant.

"I'll pay you well."

"I couldn't accept money from you after what I did."

"But—"

"I'll do it. I mean, I can't promise the machine is still there, or even functional, but I'll go over to mom's after work and at least try."

"Thanks. You're a life saver."

_Ask and you shall receive. _She grins up to the universe at large. _I'd also like a brand new car if you can arrange that._

"Where's the card you need laminated?" he asks.

She remembers she still needs to correct the font and the lighting. "It needs a tiny bit more work."

Rick puts the van in park. "How long?"

"Not sure. Actually, you can repair my dad's retro communication device while you wait." She smirks.

He gives her a relieved smile, and climbs out of the van with his clipboard. "Thanks. I wasn't looking forward to explaining to my tyrant sister-in-law she'd have to rearrange appointments because I was a moron at sixteen."

"Your sister-in-law?"

"My brother's wife. She liaisons with the phone companies, accepts the contracts, and stuff. It's a family business, and she runs it with an iron fist."

"Come on in," Veronica says. "But I'm warning you now, I have a taser, so don't even look at me funny."

He holds up both hands in innocence. "My face will be a mask of indifference."

Veronica leads him into the house, showing him the locations of the wall jacks.

She grabs her strongbox from the kitchen table. "If you don't need anything else…"

"I'm good, thanks."

It takes her two more tries to get the lighting perfect on the photo and three to get the font spacing perfected. The clock on the stove reads 1:15 PM when she finds Rick in the kitchen watching the readout on an electronic device plugged into the wall jack. Looking up as she enters, he grins and turns the device towards her, allowing her to see flashing digital numbers that mean nothing to her. "Getting a signal now. Few more minutes."

She's showing him the printed cardstock – two copies in case he makes a mistake – and the plastic from Weevil's old ID card pointing out the rounded corners and ¼ inch of overlap, when her cell rings.

"Hello?"

"Veronica. It's me," Keith says. "Good news and bad news."

"What's up?"

"I talked to a contact that used to work at the California Bureau of Security and Investigative services."

"Okay?"

"Turns out there's a _'special circumstances'_ extension you can get to avoid having to start the PI application process all over again."

"Well that's the good news, what's the bad?"

"The extension can only be signed by the sheriff or the county supervisor."

"Hmmm...Well, we both know Vinnie won't sign it. He can't have me around showing-up his sheriff's department. Looks like I'll be paying a little visit to the Mayor of Neptune."

Rick is standing awkwardly, with his clipboard in his hand as if waiting for her to get off the phone. She holds up one finger to tell him she'll be off in a second.

"Hey, need to go. The phone repair guy needs to talk to me."

"Wait. Veronica. You need—"

"I remember the drill with Mayor Wilson. He does favors for deserts. Specifically Tiramisu from The Hut. Gotta go." She hangs up.

Rick is smiling at her. "So hey, if you ever need any help with any other cases, just let me know. I know I owe you big-time..."

_Uh-oh. I recognize that look. Piz Piznarski, circa 2007. Don't even think about asking me out, buddy. One laminated card does not make us even. _

_Although…a few more favors..._

Her phone rings again. "Forget something, dad?"

Joe's voice answers. "Veronica. Can we please just talk?"

_Oh dear God, can't he take a hint?_

"No. I can't talk, Joe. We can discuss our _relationship_ later." Rick's smile falls. _Hint taken?_ "I'm in the middle of something. Goodbye."

She disconnects the call, signs-off on the service order form, and finishes up her own business with Rick. He promises to call with an update on the ID card later that evening.

When, three minutes later, Joe's name shows once again on caller id, she ignores the call and powers off her phone for good measure.

_He never could take no for an answer._

* * *

Veronica double-checks her reflection in the glass windows outside of the new City Hall. Her black pencil skirt - worn without the matching jacket - ends inches above her knees. She pairs it with a recently purchased blouse in a rich shade of emerald, short sleeved with feminine detailing, in a fabric that glides across her skin like silk without any of the negative properties. Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and her classic black pumps accentuate her calves nicely.

Although the bagged desert in her hand should do the trick, she's known Mayor Jeff Wilson - through her father - since high school, and is aware of his appreciation for a nice set of legs.

_I'll have him eating out of the palm of my hand._

The austere lobby of city hall is deserted. Nobody lingers on the unobtrusive maple benches tucked in between potted trees. Nobody climbs the focal-piece staircase or looks down from the balcony. She shivers from the chill of the air conditioning, and glances left and right to get her bearings. This building was newly built the last time she was here, almost seven years ago.

_Was the mayor's office upstairs or down that hall to the right? _

_Or maybe I should follow that large brass sign with an arrow pointing right?_

Her heel clicks on the mosaic tile floors bounce loudly off the tall, vaulted ceiling as she rounds the corner. She stops in front of the far door - wooden with a frosted glass window, labeled 'County Supervisor's Office' in gold leaf.

Smoothing out her skirt one last time, she turns the knob and steps into the office shutting the door silently behind her. She stands in tastefully furnished reception area. Straight ahead, on the far side of the room, a narrow hallway leads back to the mayor's inner sanctum. Immediately to her left a tall counter divides the waiting area from the receptionist/supermodel perched with her back to Veronica on the edge of a desk, a phone pressed to her ear.

"And then…the fourth time we broke up, he swore he only wanted me, but when I went out for drinks with Amy that same night, there he was with that skanky blonde he used to date."

"No, not her." She listens to the other end of the call and then continues. "Not her either. That was a different time. There have been a few blondes. No, she's just a friend." Pause. "No, it's not his fault. He's damaged or something."

Momentary silence.

"Because his mom was never there for him, and his dad…well…you know."

_How do I know that voice? _

_Gia Goodman?_

"But I know he's the guy for me. We just click on this…you know…cellular level."

_Oh, crap. Maybe I didn't think this through enough._

Veronica can only see two possible outcomes. She announces her presence, and Gia tells her she can't get in to Mayor Wilson without an appointment. Or she gets trapped for the next hour 'catching up' with the details of Gia's dramatic love life.

She eyes the closed door at the end of the hallway longingly.

_Or maybe there's a third option. _

She makes a split decision, thankful for the rebuilt City Hall. Back in the days of Woody Goodman, the mayor's office had glass walls, and it would have been impossible to sneak past the receptionist.

Dropping to her knees, she cradles the bakery bag and crawls past the reception area as quickly and silently as possible.

"No, he hasn't actually called yet. But I'll make him wait a few more days before I take him back." Gia never breaks from her conversation. "...because I just know I'm the only one who can help heal his soul."

Veronica rolls her eyes. _Some girls never learn._

_Maybe I will have to find time to catch up with her. Somebody needs a reality check - Veronica Mars style._

_But not before I get my license extension. _

Once safely out of view in the hallway, Veronica stands and smoothes her clothing again. A faint repetitive thumping noise comes from the office at the end of the hallway, and to be safe, Veronica tiptoes the rest of the way to the door.

_Forgive me for my tenacity, Mayor Wilson, but this is kind of time-sensitive._

She opens the door, slipping inside and holding the knob to allow the door to close silently.

The office is larger than most, with a large cherry desk dominating the far side, and a matching round conference table circled by four mauve cushioned chairs to Veronica's left. At first, the room appears empty, but then she registers that the tall burgundy leather chair is facing away from the doorway.

A hand rises up and tosses a small blue ball - the type used by racquetball players - at the round, copper City Seal mounted on the far wall. It strikes the second letter 'E' in _'Neptune'_, before bouncing back into the hand. Tossed again, it strikes the letters 'C', 'A', and 'L' in _'California'_ in a steady thumping rhythm.

_Our tax dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen. Odd, I never took Wilson for the type to slack on the job._

_Well...better announce my presence._

"Mr. Wilson?" she calls out. The hand freezes, missing the ball on its bounce back from the letter 'I'. It hits the desktop and bounces, rolling across the floor to Veronica's feet.

"Hi, I'm sorry for disturbing you and sneaking past your secretary, but I really need to talk to you immediately."

The hand, until now, still frozen in the same position, finally lowers, and the chair slowly turns to face her.

_Well that isn't Jeff Wilson._

_FUCK!_

* * *

Veronica's stomach bottoms-out like an elevator with its cable snipped. She finds herself incapable of looking away, as the County Supervisor rises from his chair_._

_This is wrong. It makes no sense. _

_This is_ _'Guess what, Veronica? The sky is chartreuse; the earth is flat, and 2 + 2 = 629' wrong. _

From his slack jaw and wide eyes, it's obvious the mayor is as surprised by her presence as she is of his. They remain deadlocked for what feels like several hours. Then he's moving. Crossing the office in long powerful strides.

Her gut clenches and she unconsciously stops breathing as her pulse begins to race. On the scale of '_fight-or-flight_', she's definitely leaning towards flight. But her feet won't cooperate, remaining frozen to the spot. She stares at the offending appendages as if trying to will them into action.

_Flight, I said! Move!_

And then he's in standing front of her, and her heart is racing faster than any rabbit's.

With agonizing slowness, she raises her eyes to his face, and what she sees reflected back at her makes her eyes flood and her chest tighten painfully.

She jerks her gaze away, inspecting her pumps and a pair of expensive black loafers through blurred vision. Tries to swallow, but the lump in her throat gets in the way.

_Tears? What the hell is wrong with you, Veronica? You're not that girl._

_Get the hell out of here!_

_Run!_

She takes a shaky breath and lets it out, reaches deep inside for any small measure of control, and finally raises her eyes, curling her lips into a tiny forced smile.

It slips away unnoticed under the fierce intensity of his gaze.

_Deer, meet headlights._

_Run. Run. Run. Run. _

She meets his mouth halfway. A violent collision of lips and teeth and tongue.

A hand lifts as if to push him away, but instead slides up into his hair and roughly drags him closer. Kissing him harder. Fisting the soft material of his suit jacket with her free hand. Breath quickening. Pulse accelerating. Overcome by how nothing has changed - the same intoxicating aquatic scent, the same minty taste on his tongue, the same little _"Mmm"_ sound he makes as the kiss deepens. His hands are on her back. Around her neck. In her hair. Cupping her face. Alternately tender and rough.

Her back slams against the door, followed by her head, leaving her breathless. A large hand slides in to cradle the back of her head, as his mouth tries to move down to her neck. She laughs, dragging him back to her mouth. She wasn't done.

She's losing her ability to think rationally, and doesn't give a damn. The only thing that matters is that there are spaces between them that need to be eliminated. She's arching her back to crush her breasts against him. She's pulling him closer by the hips, but can't get the damn parts to align correctly. And then, fuck it, she's _climbing_ him like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist. _Aligning. _The forgotten bag, still hanging from her wrist bounces against his back with a soft thump and a crinkle. Hands move to support her weight, sliding up her bare thighs, under her skirt, to her ass.

He pulls back to catch his breath, and pauses to stare at her, eyes wide in disbelief. She bites her lip self-consciously, not yet ready to be under the microscope. _Please, no talking. Just go with it. _And then he's smiling – the kind of smile that inches slowly across the face – and she can't fucking breathe.

_He's beautiful. How did I forget how damn beautiful he is?_

She could stare at his face for days - even feels an answering smile tugging at her own lips – but she has a much better use for his beautiful mouth. She pulls him in again, kissing him deeply and urgently. Crushed between his body and the door, she rocks her hips against his erection, causing him to moan in her mouth. _So perfect. _He manages to lock the door with a loud click, and then long fingers slip inside her panties gripping her ass cheek tightly. She answers by grinding against him more aggressively. His sharp inhale sucks air from her lungs and without breaking the kiss, he whirls around.

They're moving, and she's laughing - holding on with one hand and untucking his shirt with the other. He's stumbling - that damn blue rubber ball - and then righting himself. Snickering against her mouth as he kicks it across the room and resumes his track.

They're stopping. One warm hand disappears from her thigh, leaving a cold spot, and then the contents of his desktop are crashing and clattering to the floor_. So we've decided to wake the dead? _He deposits her on the hard surface, and leans into the kiss while shrugging out of his suit jacket. She doesn't have enough hands for all the places she wants to touch, but settles for locating the knot on his tie, and prying at it until it loosens enough to pull over his head.

He's pressing her backwards, and with her legs wrapped so tightly around his waist, she's pulling him with her. She's stretched out full-length on his massive cherry desk and he's on top of her, kissing her senseless.

She's dizzy. Incapable of thought, as he shifts his attention to her neck, honing in on the junction of neck to shoulder. She gasps for breath, and if her nipples weren't already hard, they would be now. There's a desperation to the way she pushes against his chest to relieve the pressure.

"Boss?" Gia's tinny voice projects from somewhere on the floor.

He groans in annoyance, continuing his assault on Veronica's neck.

"I heard a loud noise. Is everything ok in there?"

He sighs, raising his head enough to get his bearings. Trails kisses along Veronica's jawline while dragging the phone off the floor by its cord. It clatters onto the desktop, and he lifts up on one elbow to press the intercom button.

"Everything's fine!" Presses a kiss to Veronica's mouth. "Cancel all of my appointments and take the rest of the day off." Kisses his way to the other side of Veronica's neck.

Veronica realizes that (1) this is the first time she's heard his voice, and (2) when it's husky like this, it still does funny things to her insides. She fumbles with the top button on his shirt.

"But you have an appointment with Dave Bartlett, and I've had to reschedule it twice already." Gia says.

Two buttons, no three buttons down, as he lifts back up on his elbow, shooting a baleful glare at the intercom. "Make it a third and go," he says, urgently.

With his long, graceful throat right above her, Veronica can't resist running her tongue up its length. He answers with a grinding of his hips.

_He's so damn hard. What was I saying about putty in my hands earlier?_

"I didn't like the sound of that bang." Gia insists.

"Please go." He whimpers, and whether it's due to frustration at Gia, or Veronica's teeth on his throat she can't say.

He releases the intercom button and lifts up on both arms, gazing down at Veronica hungrily, while allowing her to clumsily work at his shirt buttons. Her stomach flip-flops in anticipation. _He's deciding what he wants to do to me. _

His eyes are on her breasts, and she trembles, resisting the mad urge to rip her own shirt open for him. Her nipples are so tight right now, it's actually painful, and are clearly visible through her blouse. If he doesn't do something soon…

He meets her eyes again giving her his trademark bob of the eyebrows. The one he uses for a hundred different meanings. Today, it seems to be a cross between _'We should do something about that'_ and _'I'm going in.'_

He ducks his head taking one of her nipples between his teeth and her hips fly up off the desk crashing against his erection. He lets out a sexy laugh, and pinches her other nipple between two fingers. She forgets all about unbuttoning his shirt - forgets all about breathing - as her hand moves to the back of his head. Her legs wrap around his ass, working as leverage to drag his hips down as she presses up into him. She watches his eyes nearly roll back from the sensation, and repeats the motion.

Gia's voice intrudes again. "You know, if there were terrorists in there with you, and they were holding a gun to your head, they could be forcing you tell me to leave."

He pulls up onto his knees, straddling Veronica. His eyes are glazed-over with desire, and he caresses her breast with his thumb as he leans forward to press the button. "Gia, just leave!"

Veronica manages the last two buttons on his shirt, and he shrugs it off his shoulders revealing his bare upper body to her eyes for the first time in years.

_Mine!_

She has to shake away her first thought, it's so off base, it's not even funny. Her second, third and fourth thoughts are more acceptable: _FUUUUCK! Want! Damn, somebody's been hitting the gym_, respectively.

Gia's still babbling. "If somebody has a gun to your head, just give me some kind of sign. What's the code word?"

"We don't have a fucking code word!" He growls in frustration. Then, in pleasure, as Veronica reaches out and squeezes his erection, perfectly outlined by his dress pants. His head falls backwards and his hips thrust forward against her hand.

"Yes we do, I came up with it that day you worked up the pool proposal. You really need to work on your effective listening skills. I can recommend an online training course for that."

His eyes find Veronica's. _'Can you fucking believe this?'_ She smirks and shrugs, and he leans over to press the button again.

"Fine. I'll get right on that. Tomorrow, if you'll just go. Now."

He moves to kiss her again, but she puts out a hand to keep him upright. He eyes her with barely restrained eagerness as she pushes herself up into a sitting position. So close, but not yet touching, she can _feel_ the heat radiating from his bare skin.

Her hands lift to glide over his back and chest. _Mine. _Along shoulders and abs. _Mine. _Brushing fingertips over places that make him tremble_. _Smooth places, and places lightly dusted with hair. Caressing and squeezing. Cataloguing differences in shape or contour_. Mine._

Just like it always has, the word repeats like a mantra in her head, no matter how hard she tries to push it away. Then again, this entire situation is crazy. It's best not to overthink it.

His breathing is faster now, and a glance up at his eyes tells her how much he enjoys what she's doing.

_Of course he does. He lives to touch and be touched. _

And...the lump in her throat returns. A sharp stab of grief and loss.

_I took this away from him. _

Which is ridiculous, of course. He's probably been with dozens of women over the years. Most of them fully equipped with hands.

_But did they give this to him? Did they know how much it means to him? Did they do it right?_

_Get a fucking grip, Veronica. Sex now. Over-analysis later._

_Sex now._

Leaning forward, she licks his nipple with the flat of her tongue, causing his hands to tighten reflexively on her waist. She swirls her tongue around it, while his fingers locate the hidden side zipper on her skirt. She takes his tiny nipple between her teeth. Almost laughs as his breath comes out in a hiss and his hips jerk involuntarily.

_Turnabout is fair play, sweetheart._

She flicks her tongue against his captured nipple, just to make him squirm.

His thumbs are rubbing half circles on the skin right above her skirt, making it difficult to figure out how to work a belt buckle. It sticks, and she has to tug on the end a few times to pull it free. His button and zipper are less problematic. She runs the tip of her fingernail down the exposed crimson silk of his boxers.

He groans, and then turns the tables, crushing his mouth against hers. And again, she's swept up. He's kissing her in that particular way that…

_Leaves me foggy and dazed? _

_Makes my toes curl?_

_Makes every other man I've ever kissed look like an amateur._

He's abandoned her mouth, and is kissing his way down her neck, tracing her clavicle with his tongue, and popping open the buttons on her blouse. More skilled than she is, he manages to slide it off her shoulders in mere seconds. _Not like he hasn't had plenty of practice. _

She almost laughs as he pulls back to stare at her. He forgets how well she knows him.

_Step one. Show appropriate awe and appreciation for the beauty of the blonde wearing black lace bra._

_Step two. Surreptitiously scope out the hardware._

His eyes zero in the front-hook between her breasts.

_Ding ding. Target acquired. _

_God, you're such a guy, but it's my turn. _

She pushes roughly on the waist of his pants. Why won't they come off?

_Because he's sitting back on his heels, genius. _

She gives him a little shove, and he gets the message, smiling almost shyly as he slides onto the floor and tosses his wallet on the desk.

Leaning all the way back onto her elbows, she watches him with lowered lids as he slowly drops his pants_. Damn!_ Instead of coming right back to her, he leans over and tugs on the hem of her skirt with both hands. She lifts her hips off the desk as he shimmies the material over her hips and down her legs.

_I am so glad I went with a matching bra and panty set today._

He eyes her heels, appreciatively, and she knows him. He'd much rather she leave them on, but he goes ahead and slides them off her feet.

Now he's staring at her, and she's literally tingling all over from the heat of his gaze.

He climbs back up, and kneels over top of her. Eyes predatory.

_That's my boy. _

_Just how I like you. _

He unconsciously licks his lips.

_FUCK!_

Her breasts are tight and begging for contact.

_Do something. Put your hands on me. Put your mouth on me. Get the fuck inside me. _

He leans forward to kiss her.

Gia's voice returns on the intercom. "So hey, has Dick even asked about me?"

Veronica can't help but snort out a laugh. He smirks down at her - _there he is -_ and just to be an ass, pops open her bra, exposing her breasts before turning to the phone and pressing the intercom button.

_Fucking tease. Touch me already!_

"Gia?" he says, voice now deceptively calm.

_"_Yes?"

"That noise you heard earlier?"

"Yeah?"

"I was clearing off my desk to have sex. Which you've managed to interrupt four times now."

"GAWD!" Gia says. "I mean I know masturbation is a natural and healthy part of the human experience and everything – some studies say that 95% of men do it – but would it kill you to do it in the bathroom or something?"

Veronica throws her head back and laughs. He flicks her nipple with his thumb and index finger and tries to fight a smile.

He inhales and exhales, striving for calm before pushing the button to answer. "Actually Gia, I have somebody here with me. Somebody I really really want to have sex with, and if you fucking ruin this for me, I will fire you faster than your head can spin. Now leave, for God's sake."

_Ruin it for you? As if I've ever been the one to put on the breaks between us?_

He dips his chest just enough to graze her breasts with the soft hair on his chest, before pulling back up with that awful damn - _beautiful_ - smirk of his.

"Well why didn't you just say that in the first place? How would I have ever guessed that? I'll clear your schedule and see you tomorrow."

He groans in relief. Pushes the button. "Thank you."

Veronica reaches for him, but he holds up a finger. Keeps an eye on the intercom, his eyes saying _'Wait...for...it'_.

Gia's voice returns. "And you firing me? As if! You need me a lot more than I need this job. Like you could ever figure out how to run this office without me."

"You're absolutely right. You're the oil that keeps the wheels squeaky around here. Or something like that."

"Good. Now enjoy your sex or whatever. You deserve it."

He closes his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief. Waits silently. Makes the hurry-up gesture at the intercom, while Veronica looks on.

Gia speaks. "Um...the Clorax Wipes are in the utility closet behind my desk. For...you know. The broom and dustpan are there too, in case you broke anything."

He pushes the button. "Good to know. Good night."

That must be what he was waiting for, because the moment he releases the button, his mouth is on Veronica's breast_. Oh my fucking...YES_. Sucking and swirling with his tongue, and..._yep, he still remembers that sensitive spot at the edge of the areola. FUCK_.

Her hands slide inside the back of his boxers_. Mine. _Dragging him against her, as she lifts to meet him.

As he lifts his head to switch to her other breast, she pushes at his waistband, baring his ass. He gives her a half-smile, and lifts up to his knees to drop the boxers, kicking them off a leg at a time.

_Uh oh. This is getting real. _

She wraps her hand around his erection, and his head falls back. _God, he feels perfect in my hand. _He exhales loudly at the ceiling before looking back at her.

She makes the mistake of meeting his eyes.

He's giving her that look. The look that no other man has ever been able to replicate. The one that says without words, '_I see you clearly. I understand you like nobody else ever has. I love you completely and always will._'

She pulls his face to her breast so he can't see the moisture flooding her eyes.

For months – ever since this whole ordeal started – her life has been hell. She's twitchy and on edge. Probably suffering from depression. Even before that, it's been a string of one bad relationship after another. She colder now. Her heart 'closed for business' for all intents and purposes.

But for a moment there, she'd thought '_He could be my haven. He could keep me safe, and love me, and make me forget_.'

He probably would too, without complaint, but it would be cruel to use him that way.

So she loses herself in the physical - his lips on the sensitive undersides of her breasts. The solid feel of him in her hand. The little gasp he makes when she guides him closer, pressing him against her panties, and rocking up against him.

He shifts lower, palming her breast as he traces her ribs with his tongue. She inhales as he drags his teeth along the innermost curve of her waist. She knows what he's doing. Testing out the little spots that elicit responses from her.

_How can he remember more than the last three guys ever bothered to learn?_

She shivers all over when he runs his short fingernails lightly down the back of her thigh. Watches him smile into her skin.

He slides lower. Her stomach muscles clench as he kisses her hip bone. The muscles in her ass and thighs tighten as he kisses across her lower belly to her other hipbone. She fucking trembles when he presses his face to her panties. Every muscle in her body tenses to keep her hips from pushing up. She fails a moment later when he gently nips the inside of her thigh. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk.

_Teasing bastard. _

He locks eyes with her as he reaches for her panties, and she holds her breath as he slowly peels them away from her hips and down her legs_._ She can't remember the last time she's felt this exposed.

Her legs are bent, feet flat on the desk, and he's between them, hugging her right leg and pressing his cheek to the inside of her knee. He's looking at her from under his lashes, and years seem to disappear from his face. He's sixteen years old again, and still thinks she's the answer to all of his prayers.

Her chest constricts almost painfully.

_Damn him! Sex isn't supposed to be like this._

Except…maybe it kinda is. For other people. People who aren't as broken and hardened as they are.

She smiles softly at him – gives him the go-ahead – and he's sprinkling kisses up her thigh, creating indescribable sensations in her belly.

Gia's voice comes over the intercom. "So how did this happen anyway? Did you finally sign up for that speed-dating service I recommended?"

Their eyes meet in disbelief, and then Veronica twists, and dives for the phone, holds down the intercom button, and speaks in her iciest voice. "Gia? If you interrupt one more time, I'm going to come out there, and trust me, I'm the last person you want to deal with."

"Okay, okay! I'm leaving now," Gia answers in a sullen voice.

"Make sure that you do."

When she releases the button and turns back, he is _right there_. He's looking up at her in invitation, and kneading her inner thighs with his thumbs. She's almost scared, but she knows he enjoys this almost as much as she does. So she exhales, closes her eyes, and lets him guide her to his mouth. And when his tongue touches her clit…

"HOLY MOTHER OF WHAT THE FUCK!"

He snorts against her, and seriously, what the hell was that? Felt more like a live wire than a tongue.

_How can he still make me feel this way? _

Her body is as taut as a bowstring, neck bowed, chin up, fingers curled around the edge of the desktop behind her, as he alternates taps and dashes and circles with his tongue.

_Missed this so much._

She's all deep sighs and breathy moans when his fingers slide inside her, moving in and out in time with his tongue. As he increases his speed, her breathing becomes ragged. She feels as if she's gathering energy from every other region of her body, and redistributing it to the place between her thighs. She's babbling a steady stream of '_ohmigodohmigodohmigod'_, and when he gently sucks her clit into his mouth, she's exploding in waves of sensation, his name on her lips.

Then he's beside her, and she's cradled in his arms. He's whispering nonsense and kissing her, and all she can hear is the sound of her pulse between her ears.

* * *

She's different, but not as different as she thinks. Her hair is longer. The dark circles are new. She's obviously haunted by something.

But she kisses the same. She touches the same. Her body still responds to him – even more so, if that's possible. And the gleam in her eyes may have dimmed, but it's still there.

_If I have my way, we'll have it blazing back to life in no time. _

_But first...the obligatory chase, because there no way in hell she's giving in this easily. _

He'd seen the fear in her eyes when she'd first locked eyes with him. She hadn't been expecting him here, and she sure as hell hadn't come back for him.

_But if I'm lucky, she'll be staying for me. _

His eyes widen when she rolls him over and straddles him. He gulps when he feels her wetness against him. His hands brace her hips to help her find a rhythm. _Perfect. _

If she knew the way his heart was palpating, she'd probably be gone already. If she knew the way he'd waited for this…

She's a tiny blond goddess looking down on him from above. Still so damn beautiful.

And he loves her.

Like always.

She's straddling him, one knee on the manila folder for the new Kane Wing at Neptune General. He's trying his damndest not to surge up into her.

Without taking his eyes off her, he feels around the desktop, finds a plastic bag with some kind of container inside, finds a post-it note pad, finally finds his wallet, and fishes out a condom.

Before he can even get it open, she's impaling herself on him, and he gasps. He hasn't been bareback since…her actually. She's the only one. Ever. The way she feels around him…can't even be described in words.

He palms her hips and guides her up and down, supporting her body weight as she rises, and letting gravity bring her back down. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes glazed with passion, and he thinks it's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. Overcome with emotion, he pulls her mouth down to his, kissing her long and slow as if trying to compensate for lost years. This has to be the pinnacle of his life. He thinks he could die happy now, inside Veronica Mars, kissing her.

When they part, she gives him an apologetic smile and slides off him. She reaches for the condom and rolls it over his cock before sliding him back inside her. He loves her even more for giving him those few minutes of how things used to be_. _

_And hopefully will be again._

She entwines their fingers together, pausing to examine his left hand, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

_Not until you put one on me, baby._

She uses his hands as leverage, pushing against them to move a little faster, slam a little harder.

But it's too good. He's too close. He needs to slow things down.

Without withdrawing from her, he rolls her so that he's on top. He begins to rock inside of her, dipping his hips as she rises to meet him. Her legs wrap around his back, and he covers her neck and jaw with wet kisses, returning to her mouth every so often, breathing her in.

He locks eyes with her. And he knows he's probably telegraphing his feelings. Everything he felt for her six years ago. Everything he still feels today. He doesn't really care. He's come too far in life to start playing games now. And her eyes soften, and shift, and…

_Holy shit! _

_She still loves me!_

She loves him. She probably doesn't even know it herself, but he'd know that look anywhere. He sees it in his dreams. Veronica Mars still loves him.

She touches his face and lifts her head to give him the softest kiss. And he feels choked up inside. He feels like his soul has been injected with summer.

His chances are better than he'd initially thought.

_It won't be easy, but then you know what they say about the ones that come easy. _

He shifts his hips, adjusting his angle, until her eyes tell him he's found the spot. Holding the pose, he watches her pupils dilate as she approaches climax again.

Together, their breathing becomes more labored as he slams into her faster and faster. _Fucking love you. Fucking love you. _He watches her eyes as she comes, crying out his name again. The feel of her throbbing and contracting around his dick is too much for him to take, and he lets out a guttural moan, slamming hard into her one last time, and letting himself go.

He collapses on top of her, breathing in her perfume, and her essence. Feeling the pulse in her throat against his lips.

Once he has his breathing under control, he raises himself on his elbows, leaning down and planting a lingering kiss on her mouth.

"Welcome home, Bobcat." He smirks down at her.

"Hey, Logan." She smirks back.

* * *

**End episode one:**

Neptune wasn't waiting

But Logan was.

* * *

**A/N1** As always, thanks to ShanghaiLily for everything! From beta-ing to talking me through my blocks. You freaking rock!

**A/N2** Blame it on Plan B for forever shaping my head canon. It's not the most influential episode of the series, but it's the one that pops into my head first when people mention favorite episodes.

**A/N3 **So I hate to beg for reviews, but this _is_ my first full real-time love scene, so a little curious whether I did it right, (or if the cuddling was the best part)? Thoughts?

**A/N4** I've had a lot of requests for updates on the next Sometimes chapter. This is what I can tell you. So far, it's at around 15K words – and that's about 80% of the first draft. Probably will be at least 17K when I finish the first draft. Second drafts generally get longer, because that's when I add in all the details to make it come alive. So I'm almost positive that it'll be split into two chapters. Just as a reminder, I can't respond to anonymous reviews, and it would be mean to post a new chapter just to give a status update. What I can do, for those of you who want to keep track of where I'm at, is post periodic progress updates on my Tumblr. Check my profile page for a link, and check the right nav of my Tumblr page for the Silver Fic link.

**A/N5 ** Writers: Sorry I'm so behind on my fic reading. Will be playing catch up next few days. Been killing myself trying to get a chapter up.


	5. Ep2 Pt1 Neptune's Most Eligible Bachelor

**Neptune**

* * *

**Episode Two/Part One – Neptune's Most Eligible Bachelor**

* * *

**Previously: **Sexy times with Logan on the mayor's desk. Maybe some other stuff.

* * *

_Once he has his breathing under control, he raises himself on his elbows, leaning down and planting a lingering kiss on her mouth._

_"Welcome home, Bobcat." He says smirking down at her._

_"Hey, Logan." She smirks back._

Logan disposes of the condom in the trashcan and rolls back to his side. His left hip and shoulder pressing into the hard wooden surface barely registers as he tries to process the fact that she's really here with him. _Finally. _

He's never stopped believing - at least not for long. Even while in relationships with others. Even though they've been apart now longer than they ever were together. He's always considered it a matter of _when_ she'd be back in his arms rather than _if._ But in his wildest dreams, he'd never imagined it could come about with so little effort. In fact, he'd assumed he would need to go to her.

He's not delusional enough to think this means they're back together. This was sex. But he can still produce a _'kiss-now-talk-later'_ reaction out of her. Highly encouraging. So for now, he's giddy with happiness, and wants to cling to the feeling before reality intrudes.

Veronica is on her back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. Smiling.

Nothing's changed - she still blisses out after sex, and he still chokes-up with emotion at the sight. He snakes his arm around her, pulling her snug against his body.

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. _He sends up a silent stream of gratitude to the universe as he basks in the moment.

This will pass all too soon, so he glides his fingertips along her skin, memorizing the smooth texture. He buries his face in her silky hair, inhaling the scent. Scatters kisses on her forehead, cheeks, chin and lips.

It's going to hurt like hell when she goes, but right now, he's just so damn happy.

_Stretch this out. Make it last. _

Her eyes open, and he's overwhelmed by the recognition in her stare - as if she can read his mind. He's been loved by other women - some have even loved him better - but nobody has ever truly _known _him like Veronica. Only one of many reasons she's irreplaceable to him.

"You're staring," she says.

"Yeah, I'm kind of in shock. Sex on my desk with a hot blonde wasn't exactly in my day planner."

"You _don't_ carry a day planner." It's not a question.

"Fine. Sex with a hot blonde on my desk wasn't in Gia's day planner."

"Should I have made an appointment?"

"Next time," he says with more confidence than he actually feels. "Or...I could just schedule a recurring appointment? How's...everyday?Noon?"

"Logan...this was—"

He presses his mouth to hers - delaying the inevitable _'This was a mistake'_ and she responds, lips parting, hands pulling him closer.

For a moment, she kisses him hard, as if she wants him to make her forget. Then she breaks away with a sigh, turning her face to the side. So he kisses her cheek and up her jawline to her neck.

"What the hell did I just do?" she moans in a voice that's a cross between a laugh and a cry.

He kisses down the column of her throat.

"This never should have happened."

He kisses the curve of her shoulder.

"Logan!"

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you always seduce girls who make the mistake of sneaking into your office?"

His fingers stroke circles on her belly. "Only the short ones."

Her lips curl up in amusement. "It's completely unprofessional, you know. You should try opening with something more businesslike, like '_Welcome. How may I meet the needs of my constituency today?_'"

"I liked my way better."

"I bet."

"And I can say with complete confidence that your needs were met."

Her fingertips brush the side of his jaw. "You sure about that?"

"Positive." He kisses the tip of her nose.

She glances away with a shy smile. "Cocky bastard."

"_Mayor _Cocky Bastard."

"You're trying to distract me."

"Mmm-hmm" he nods, his mouth dropping to her breast, circling it with his tongue.

Veronica lets out a little gasp. "I actually came here for a legitimate reason. I can't afford to be-"

"Way laid?" Logan glances back up, attempting to appear contrite, but can't. All he can do is smile at her with amused adoration.

"Well?"

_Well what? Am I supposed to be sorry? _

Lifting up on his elbows, he looks down into her blue-green eyes.

"Say something, dammit!" she demands.

He touches her cheek, opening his mouth to say something appropriately witty and snarky, like..."I still love you."

_Oh. My. God. _

_Way to keep things light, Logan. _

"LOGAN!" Veronica says in exasperation, covering her face in her hands.

_Well, it's out there now. You've lost any semblance of cool, so better go brash. _

"Veronica," he responds, removing her hands from her face. "I. Still. Love. You."

"How can you say that?"

He runs a hand through the front of his hair. "To be honest, I kind of surprised myself there, but then again, I've always regretted not saying it those times when it might have still made a difference."

"No. You don't get to do this."

"I don't? Fine, I'll start over. Give me my line again."

"What line? Oh...that…" She smirks and repeats her earlier words. "_Say something, dammit!_"

Logan feigns an expression of exaggerated indifference. "So uh...that was...fun. I'll...um...call you some time. Or something." He breaks off in a snort of laughter. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm too old for game playing."

"That's ridiculous. You're only twenty-six. You have plenty of game-playing years left in you."

"Well they've been a rough twenty-six years. Felt more like fifty-two."

"You know this is insane, right? I came here for a license extension, and I ended up being fucked on a desk!"

Logan smirks. "Actually, I was making love."

Veronica flings a forearm over her eyes - whether to block out the light or the truth, Logan's not sure.

He picks up his signature stamp - which somehow survived the sweeping of the desk - examining the rubber underside. "I've really missed you Veronica."

Her lips struggle to hide a smile.

"Have you missed me?" he asks, idly placing the name stamp on Veronica's lower abdomen near her left hipbone, and depressing it gently. She doesn't seem to notice.

_She's going to kill me for that._

"Maybe a little," she answers.

He likes the look of his name in crisp black ink against her pale white skin, and since he's already in trouble, he does it again on her right inner thigh. _In for a penny, in for a pound. _"Liar. I think you missed me a lot."

"And I think your ego hasn't suffered in the passing years."

"Not at all. My ego's been running amok like...Flubber. That's what happens when you're not around to keep it in check."

This drags a grin out of her. He depresses the name stamp on her rib cage under her breast for good measure. She notices this time, uncovering her eyes and lifting up on her elbows to glance down at her body.

"What the hell did you do?" she yells, seeing his signature tattooing her body in three locations.

"Would you believe modern art?"

She rolls her eyes. "Right. What are you going to do? Mount me on the wall above your desk?"

Logan's eyes twinkle. "I'll happily mount you on the wall. I'll mount you on the desk. I'll mount you on a train. In the rain. On a boat. With a goat." He pauses. "Actually, let's skip the goat."

She narrows her eyes, threateningly and point at the signature on her rib cage.

"Just making sure you don't forget me again. At least for a few days."

* * *

_Puppy Dog Eyes._

The fact that she's not super pissed at him for marking her skin is a sure sign that Veronica needs to get the hell out of here. She's made all sorts of stupid mistakes based on her weakness for those eyes.

"I have to go." She pushes halfway to a sitting position, but Logan stops her.

"Careful." He chuckles and gathers her hair loosely at the top of her head with his hands, twisting it into a messy bun and tucking in the ends the same way he'd seen her do it dozens of times. "Stay for desert."

_How does he know I brought desert? _"That's okay. It's all yours."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he says, sitting up. He hands her a sticky plastic bag and his lips move across her back.

"Tiramisu?" he asks.

Veronica has to peel the bag open to peek inside. She finds the styrofoam container from The Hut crushed and mangled, creamy desert spilling out everywhere.

"Wild guess...I'm wearing it?"

He answers by drawing a circle with his finger around her shoulder blade and part of her back.

"I can clean it off in the bathroom," she says, halfheartedly.

"Please don't." He crosses his legs and pulls her onto his lap. "I've got this."

_We still fit together like a perfect pair of nesting dolls. _

_Oh, what the hell. _She fishes out a corner of the silverware packet - enough to rip open and extract a spoon without getting her fingers sticky - and digs at what's left of the desert in the container. It's no longer cold - more like room temperature - which explains how she hadn't noticed it on her skin. Still, it's delicious. "Mmm that _is_ good."

"My new favorite desert."

She rolls her shoulders as his lips move across her skin. Her entire back is one large pleasure center, and he's been known to take advantage of that fact in the past.

"So, you done yelling at me?" Logan asks between kisses.

"I haven't begun to yell at you," she answers, without any real heat. "So explain to me how this happened."

"I carried you to my desk, stripped you naked, and made sweet love to you."

"Not that, dork." She laughs. "How in the hell does Logan Echolls, most hated person in Neptune become County Supervisor? Especially at the tender age of twenty-six."

"_You_ don't seem to hate me very much." Logan reaches a hand around, palming her breast to demonstrate his point. "And it helps when you run unopposed."

"Unopposed?" Her voice is a little too breathy. It's hard to concentrate with his hands on her. His mouth on her.

"I wasn't supposed to have a chance in hell of winning."

"So why'd you even bother?"

He raises his mouth from her skin. "Campaign experience. I wanted this for the future. Five or so years down the road. So this was the first step in cleaning up my reputation."

"And?"

"And then two weeks before the election, Jeff Wilson had a fatal heart attack. And here I am."

"Here you are."

"Naked on my desk."

Scraping another bite of layered desert out of the broken container, she licks the spoon slowly. She thinks she may be going into sensory overload - Logan's tongue and sweet mascarpone cheese, Logan's teeth and cocoa, Logan's hands and coffee and ladyfingers. It's too too much.

Shaking herself, she tries to pick up the thread of their conversation_. Logan and politics. _

"But I don't understand why you wanted to go into politics. It's not surfing or video games or partying and binge drinking."

"Look at you trying to bait me." She can hear the indulgent smile in his voice. "I know your tricks, Veronica Mars."

"What tricks? Who's playing tricks?"

"You can't ruin my moment of bliss by questioning my ambition. I grew up. Had to happen eventually."

"By becoming a _politician_ of all things?"

"Why is that so surprising? Remember when I won the essay contest and interned for the pedophile freak?"

"You mean the one where you plagiarized _Easy Rider_?"

"The five page essay where a _single paragraph_ plagiarized Easy Rider? Yeah, that one."

"I remember."

"Well, when Woody wasn't trying to grope me, I actually kind of enjoyed it."

"Woody tried to grope you?" She crumples up the plastic bag and tosses it in the garbage, suddenly nauseated.

"Not like that," Logan answers, and leans forward to kiss her cheek in reassurance. "He fondled my bicep. Could have been much worse. Point is, I watched closely while he did what he did as County Supervisor, and filed it away as something I could see myself doing someday."

"Why didn't you ever mention it to me?"

Logan exhales heavily, taking a moment to choose his words. "I guess with you, it was easier to appear directionless than to try and fail, and see the disappointment in your eyes."

"Logan, I—"She trails off, not knowing what say.

"It was a long time ago, Veronica. I'm not that guy anymore."

"How so?" she asks with a forced laugh. "You stopped caring what I think?"

"I stopped failing," he says simply, and it doesn't sound like a boast. "…and I'll always care what you think."

Her stomach flip-flops, and she's glad he's behind her so he can't see her blush.

Two large hands brace her waist and lift her up as if she weighs no more than a bag of sugar. He straightens his legs out in front of him, and Veronica shifts to straddle his thighs, but before she can sink back down onto his lap, he wraps both arms tightly around her, forcing her to stay tall on her knees. She nearly comes as he traces the path of her spine with his tongue, letting out a moan before she can help herself.

He laughs, and slides a large hand between her legs, fingers making lazy circles against her flesh.

"Logan…" she breathes, and this time he's the one who moans.

_Still a sucker for hearing his name on my lips, I see._

He lowers her to his lap, leaning forward to kiss her neck. He's hard against her back, and she needs only to shift and she could have him inside her again.

_So much for that hasty retreat I was planning. _

"You're still trying to distract me."

"Yes. Yes I am. Glad you noticed." He slides one long finger inside of her.

"Fuck, Logan!"

He leans forward, kissing her long and hard. When he pulls away, she's light headed. She allows her head to drop back onto his left shoulder to give him more access to her throat. "So any regrets? About your career choice?"

"None. I love my job, and I've been doing a decent job at it." He nips at her shoulder, while his free hand moves to her breast.

She inhales and arches into his hand. "What do you love about it?"

"Everything," he bites the intersection of her neck and shoulder and she almost comes up off the desk. "Except budgeting and council meetings. Luckily, Gia's good with the budget."

"How do you explain Gia." She's surprised she can still formulate words, with the way his hands are making her feel.

"She drives me nuts, but she's like family."

She intends to ask _'why would you hire somebody who drives you nuts?'_, but with the increased pressure of his fingers against her clit, she only manages to croak out a "Why?"

He understands the question. "There aren't any living former County Supervisors." Kisses her shoulder. "Wilson's dead, and his assistant, Jeannie retired to Florida." Kisses her throat. "Woody Goodman is dead." Kisses along her jawline. "And his assistant, Bev, left town to try her hand at modeling. Woody's predecessor is dead. Gia is literally the only living person in Neptune who knows how to run the mayor's office. Had to beg and bribe her to come work for me."

"And she never lets you forget it?"

"To put it mildly. And why are we talking about Gia? We have better things to be doing right now."

_Good question. _

She sighs. "You'd better have another condom on you."

* * *

Veronica's eyelids are made of lead.

_Falling asleep would be so heavenly right now. _

She doesn't remember them relocating to his giant leather executive's chair, but here she is, cradled in his arms, listening to the rise and fall of his breath.

_Logan. For such a disaster, he sure is perfect. His scent. The temperature of his body. The way he automatically arranges himself to keep me comfortable._

"So why aren't you sleeping, Veronica?"

She cracks an eyelid. "I was _this_ close. Thanks for breaking the spell."

He chuckles. "You always were the guy, passing out right after sex."

"Sleeping is hardly a male-dominated pursuit," she mumbles.

"Nice attempt at evasion, by the way. What's up with the dark circles?" He gently kisses the delicate skin under each eye.

"You even _think_ the name Steve Buscemi, you will suffer unspeakable pain."

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" he repeats in a firm voice.

Veronica sighs. "There was a case, and it got a little too far under my skin, but I'm sure I'll be sleeping like a baby soon, now that I'm home.

"You catch the guy?"

"No."

"You're leaving something out."

"I'm burned out, Logan. Homicide isn't working for me anymore."

He examines her eyes and she feels like she's under a microscope. "You're hiding something."

And just like that, she needs to escape. She shoves his arms away and pushes out of the chair.

"Veronica…don't."

"I told you I'm burned out, and you called me a liar. I'd like to see you trying to deal with the things I see on a daily basis. Every day having to break the news to family and friends that their loved ones are never coming home again." She locates her bra and underwear, and is searching for her skirt, when he spins her around.

"Look at me." He takes her face between his hands. "You forget how well I know you."

"I don't think you know me at all," she mutters petulantly.

"I have seen you burned out. I've seen you exhausted - both physically and mentally. I've seen you suffering from sleep deprivation. I've seen you on the verge of collapse at the end of your rope. The one thing I have never seen is Veronica Mars walking away before the bad guy's been punished."

She turns away to avoid his scrutiny, using the distraction to wiggle into her underwear. She slips her arms into her bra straps, and snaps the front. He's right of course. Were this any other case, she would have solved it before walking away from the force. More likely, she would have solved it and stayed on the force, too stubborn to acknowledge how miserable the job made her.

She turns now, meeting his eyes. "Even Veronica Mars knows to take herself out of the situation when doing so will prevent needless death."

He searches her eyes for a moment, ascertaining that she's telling the truth this time. "You want to talk about it?" he asks quietly.

"No."

"Succinct and to the point," Logan says with a nod. "If you change your mind, I'm here."

"Noted." Her skirt is on the floor and relatively unwrinkled. She wiggles it over her hips and zips, still searching for her blouse.

_There. Under the desk. _

"So you're planning to stick around town?" He scoops up his underwear from the desk chair and steps into them, looking ridiculously sexy in the crimson silk boxers.

_And here's where things get weird. _

"Even if I am, this…" She points between herself and Logan. "...isn't going to become a _thing_."

"A little late for that, Ronnie."

She moves to put space between them, retrieving her shirt and slipping it onto her shoulders. "This can't happen again."

"Veronica…"

"I mean it, Logan. I just got out of a—"

He interrupts. "Don't try to tell me you're on the rebound. That was not rebound sex. That was..." He trails off searching for words. "...reunion sex. The start of something, not the end."

She's having a hard time summoning a proper sense of finality as well.

"I'm not on the rebound. I just...there was this guy. And I was pretty sure we were on the same page. I didn't want anything serious, and neither did he."

Logan's discomfort with the subject is apparent by the way he exhales and turns away, but she barrels on. She needs to get this out. "But when I made it clear to him that I wouldn't be seeing him anymore, he had a bit of a...meltdown. Out of nowhere, he's confessing to having deep feelings for me and not wanting to let me go."

Logan cringes, snagging his pants from the floor. "Bet you loved that."

"I've had worse breakups. He didn't smash a lamp." She smirks to soften her words.

Logan holds up an index finger. "In my defense, it was a very rude lamp." He steps into his pants and zips them up.

"I'm just saying, Logan...I'm not looking for a relationship, and I'm not going to risk making the same mistakes I made with him."

"Why aren't you looking for a relationship?"

She can't help but laugh. _Who asks that question? _"Relationships and I aren't compatible." She glances at her hands, and then back up. "They never work out for me."

Logan shakes his head. "That's not a sign that relationships are bad. That's your subconscious telling you you're trying to date the wrong man."

She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head, eyes challenging. "And I suppose you think you know who the right man is?"

"Easy." He moves into her personal space, lifting fingertips to her jaw. "Me," he says against her soft unresisting lips. "Me." He kisses her cheek. "Only me." He whispers in her ear.

"Logan..." she sighs, disappointed when he takes a step back, reaches for her blouse and begins fastening the buttons, bottom to top. _Seduction in reverse. _

"We've tried having a relationship. Several times. We didn't work either."

"Yet, here we are." He motions to their proximity, the desk, and their states of undress. "I'm not that same guy anymore. I've grown up. I've changed."

"But I haven't," Veronica says.

"Good," he says, looking at her with such intensity that her knees go weak.

_Would it be sending the wrong message if I told him I wanted to go for another round? Immediately?_

"You haven't changed all that much, Logan." She says with forced lightness.

"I've changed like crazy. It's the pull between us that's still the same."

_The same? Try magnified. "_So there's still a physical attraction. Hardly earth shattering news."

"From where I was sitting, your earth was good and shattered. But you know I wasn't talking about physical attraction. You feel this pull as much as I do."

She sighs. "Logan, I came back here to get healthy. To walk away from a job that made me miserable every single day. And I neither want nor need romance in my life. Now I should get going."

"Wait," Logan tugs on her hand. "You've had your say. Now it's my turn."

"Fine, what do you want to say?"

"I intend to change your mind," he says simply, with that earnest almost-smile he uses when he's trying to be non-threatening and adorable. She doesn't trust it. He's used the same smile in the past before cutting her with his razor wit.

Veronica rolls her eyes. "How? What do you think you can do? _Make_ me fall in love with you?"

She regrets the words immediately, as her intention is not to inflict wounds. Strangely enough, he doesn't look hurt at all. In fact, his eyes are twinkling.

"I don't need to make you love me," he says, lips curling up in that maddeningly sexy smirk. "Because you've never stopped."

The moment seems to hang as if poised on the edge of a precipice. Her heart pounds, and a dozen arguments spring to the tip of her tongue, but he continues speaking before she can protest, reaching out to cup her cheek with his large hand. "What I do intend to do, is to erase that haunted look from your eyes and make you happy again."

"Happy?" she repeats numbly.

"Deliriously." He kisses her forehead.

She turns her back to him before she can do something stupid, like tackling him to the ground and covering his face with kisses.

_That would surely count as mixed signals. _

The warmth of his body presses against her back and his arms come around her.

"Do what you need to do, Veronica," he says, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Run, or whatever. I'll have to accept that it's your right to reject me painfully and repeatedly." He snickers, and she thinks he's forgotten how rejection feels. "But you walking in here out of the blue was a sign, and I'm not going to waste it. I'm going to charm you at every opportunity, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"A restraining order would do the trick."

"Right…" he laughs, and changes his voice to that high pitch guys use when they're imitating girls. "Oh officer. Keep him away from me. He's too handsome and sexy, and I'm afraid I won't be able to control my urges whenever he's around. Make him take away the temptation."

"I'm a trainwreck, Logan. You've made it this far without me, you don't need me now."

"Maybe not." He runs his fingers down her arm. "But I want you."

She half-turns, leaning into his chest for a moment, absorbing his warmth, inhaling his essence. Then she lifts up on her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. "I'm leaving now."

"Don't reject the guy I used to be, Veronica," he says. "Get to know the guy I am now."

She slips out of his arms, collects her purse, and moves towards the door. She can't help but add a little switch to her step.

_Way to encourage the lunatic. _

"Dinner?" he calls after her.

"Goodbye, Logan."

She unlocks the door and steps out into the reception area before allowing herself a small grin.

"Clorox Wipes are in the cabinet behind Gia's desk," she calls back over her shoulder.

* * *

Three blocks from city hall, after the radio DJ's finish shilling for a laser hair-removal company, the four opening piano notes of the next song kicks in. _**'Something always brings me back to you. Never takes too long.'**_

"Fuck you, Sara Bareilles!"

Veronica stabs the power button and pulls the vehicle over to the side of the road. Slamming the car into park, she allows her head to fall backwards onto the headrest.

_Mother Fucker!_

_I am never going to be over stupid Logan Echolls!_

She did not come back to Neptune to reunite with her volatile ex-boyfriend. She came home to prevent senseless death. And for an investigative career that didn't make her want to drown in vodka every night. One more energizing than life-draining.

She'd accepted a long time ago, she wasn't cut out for romantic entanglements. Men came into her life, confessed their undying love, and then tried to change everything about her. They silently sniffed their disapproval. Begged and demanded. Issued ultimatums. Made accusations. Called her names.

They tried to manipulate her into traditional feminine roles. Offered marriage and babies and picket fences if she would only walk away from everything that made her Veronica Mars. Accused her of emasculating them when she refused their oh-so-generous offers. _Emasculation._ Eventually, they all used that word. Blamed her for their cheating, or their erectile dysfunction, or their Madonna/Whore complexes.

So she'd sworn-off romance. Encased her heart in a solid block of ice. And she liked it that way.

But Logan is a serious threat.

Since their first kiss, they've burned like a raging destructive wildfire. How else do you explain kissing your worst enemy and being unable (or unwilling) to stop?

She was a girl who liked to plot and plan. Dot the I's. Cross the T's. But any five minutes around Logan was enough to demonstrate how very little control she actually possessed. His presence in her life brought uncertainty and chaos. And that loss of control caused her stress, but also made her breathless and exhilarated. Reeled her in, and drove her away.

How was the protective ice around her heart supposed to withstand that kind of heat?

Her feelings for Logan were always her most closely guarded secret. Sure, her friends and family all suspected she loved him, but nobody had ever grasped the full depth of her feelings - least of all, Logan himself.

To the outside world, she was the ultra-competent Veronica Mars. Straight A student. Excellent investigator. Daughter. Friend. Girlfriend. A more-or-less balanced life. Priorities in check. Never one to wrap her life around a boyfriend - any boyfriend.

Nobody ever knew how she could barely go three minutes without thinking of him. How she'd breathed his name in and out hundreds of times a day. She'd woken to thoughts of him. Pictured him as she drifted off to sleep. She had loved him like he was her religion. She had loved him so much it terrified her. And he'd never even suspected.

Because letting somebody know they were your world gave them power over you. And Veronica had stopped giving away that kind of power the day she woke up without her underwear in Shelly Pomroy's guest bedroom.

She'd had the opportunity to observe countless relationships over the years – in her both personal life and professional life – and in that time, she'd yet to see one with an equal balance of power. At least on the surface. One party was always more invested. After witnessing the destruction of her family, she'd worked hard to ensure she would never be that party.

She didn't think it always came down to which person loved more, but rather which partner was more comfortable with vulnerability. Logan, who'd had every reason to guard his heart, had presented it to her fully and without reservation. To the extent she'd wanted to shake him sometimes. He should've known better - people will always let you down. _She'd_ let him down on more than one occasion.

Sometimes she thinks she's been ridiculous. What's the worst that could've happened if she had looked someone in the eye and said '_I love you_'?

Would it make her instantly weak? Unloved? Taken for granted? Abandoned?

In her more self-reflective moments she thinks, maybe it's simply the plight of the abandoned child. Society teaches us parents should always put their children first. So when your mother abandons you for the local software tycoon, or a bottle of Absolut, you have to ask yourself '_What makes me unworthy?_'

It's like having a built-in relationship sabotage button. You expect others to treat you the same way. So you push and prod. Throw up impossible obstacles to test their love. Each passed test leading to another. You subconsciously justify that you're weeding out the weak and unworthy. If they're going to abandon you, better they do it now, before you're invested. You form your hypotheses - _people you love will let you down_ - and then force them to prove it.

So in the end, her fear of expressing vulnerability has been a hindrance in maintaining a relationship. But that doesn't mean she doesn't experience it. More than ever, lately.

Her life has literally been ripped apart by this killer. She's as close to damaged as she's been since Shelly's party. She should probably be in therapy, and on any given night, there's a 15% chance she might curl up into a ball and cry. Logan Echolls is the very last complication she needs in this weakened state.

But she can't help the small smile from curling up the corners of her lips.

_He's not married. _

_And the sex is just as mind-blowing between us as it ever was._

_And he still loves me._

_He. Still. Loves. Me._

Somehow, despite the fact that everything else in the world has changed, he's still_ her_ Logan - affectionate, adoring, brilliant-in-bed, Logan.

Like an addict, she's only blocks away from his office, and she already wants more. Lots. More. She feels fucking fantastic. The lethargy - her constant companion for months - is conspicuously missing. Her body is practically humming with energy.

If she could, she would make this a nightly arrangement - slip in and slip back out before the sheets were cold. Obtain all of the benefits without any of the consequences.

But Logan and Veronica can't do casual. It's always been all-or-nothing between them.

So it can only be nothing.

And _that_ is a damn shame.

* * *

Veronica slips her sunglasses onto her face, and pushes open the back door of Java the Hut, stepping out into the early evening sunlight. It's cooled off a bit from the warmth of earlier, but the scent of warm tar is still perceptible in the air.

She sips her drink through the hole in the lid, and scans the small parking lot, ignoring a group of girls approaching from the left, and angling towards her Sebring, parked off to the right.

"Veronica Mars?"

She knows that voice. And remembers the headaches it's prone to trigger.

_Can't I catch a break today? _After her encounter with Logan, all she wants is to self-medicate with her super-sized caramel latte. _Is that too much to ask?_

"Veronica, wait!" The voice draws nearer.

She calculates the distance to her car (too damn far), and then turns, bracing herself and pasting on her phoniest smile. "Madison Sinclair."

Veronica hates to admit, but her old nemesis looks good. Dressed conservatively in crisp black dress pants, a lightweight aqua sweater, and strappy black heels, she clutches a leather executive's portfolio in her right hand. Her makeup is tasteful, no longer applied with a spatula, and her hair – side-parted and pulled into a low ponytail – is a flattering brunette shade. Something is fundamentally different about her, and it takes Veronica a moment to realize - she's neither simpering nor sneering.

Behind Madison, Caitlin Ford – sporting a sleek bob and a raspberry colored sheathe dress - is flanked by two more plastic looking girls. The taller one, platinum blonde with thick bangs and a super-short black dress, Veronica vaguely recognizes from Hearst – typical mean girl. The other, slightly shorter than Veronica, is a strawberry-blonde, wearing a khaki shorts suit. All carry folders or envelopes. They hang back as Madison draws closer.

"Hi, Veronica," Madison says. "When did you get back?"

_As if you care? _"Yesterday."

Madison glances over her shoulder to address her three companions. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you inside in a minute."

The trio of blondes make no move to walk away. "We'll wait for you," Caitlin answers with a malicious smirk. "Hi, Veronica."

Madison frowns at their refusal to leave, while Veronica removes her sunglasses and acknowledges Caitlin's greeting with a noncommittal wave.

_Madison doesn't seem to like her friends very much. Can't say I blame her._

"So...How long are you staying in Neptune?"

"I haven't decided yet." Veronica answers, glancing longingly towards her car.

"Veronica. Listen…" Madison lowers her voice, although the effort is wasted with the three girls hovering right behind her. "I just wanted to say I feel bad about the stuff that went down years ago. I could be a real bitch back then."

_Wow. Didn't see that one coming. _

Caitlin and her companions glance among themselves with undisguised glee.

"What do you want, Madison?" Veronica asks.

"I don't _want_ anything." She answers. "Except to apologize." She has the resolved demeanor of somebody who is forcing herself to do something unpleasant, but necessary.

_What could she possibly gain by being nice to me? _

"What is this, some kind of twelve-step program thing?"

Something flickers in Madison's eyes. Barely perceptible to anyone but a trained observer.

_Which I just happen to be. _

Veronica sighs. "Okay. Apology accepted. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Wait." Madison puts a hand on her arm. "We're organizing a Bachelor Auction tomorrow night to benefit the Neptune Food Bank." She pages through her leather folder, extracting a program and handing it to Veronica. It's printed on semi-gloss colored stock and must have cost a fortune to have printed in bulk - money that could have gone to the charity. At first glance, Veronica recognizes the names of half a dozen bachelors including Wallace Fennel, Dick Casablancas, and, of course, Logan Echolls.

Veronica sighs. Pretending to be civil is exhausting. "Honestly, I've had a long day and just want to get home."

"Oh. Well you should at least come to the auction."

"I'm considering going. For the sake of supporting Wallace Fennel."

"Logan will be there." Madison says, as if his name wasn't right on the list - in the position of honor. "Maybe you two..."

"Logan, huh?" Veronica's voice sharpens and her eyes narrow to chips of ice. "Well then I'm sure you'll have your checkbook ready."

Madison shakes her head. "It's not like that. I just thought...you might want advance notice."

"Why would I need a warning?"

"Logan _is_ Neptune's most eligible bachelor. The competition will be fierce."

"Well then, thank goodness for your trust fund, huh?" Veronica answers. "You and Caitlin can fight it out for him."

Caitlin's lips turn up in a spiteful smirk, and she holds up her hand, sporting the world's most ostentatious bridal set. "Um...I'm married, Veronica." She aims a pointed glance at Veronica's empty left hand. "Some of us know how to keep a man. Plus, you might remember, I've already had Logan. He couldn't exactly hold my interest."

Veronica wants desperately to commit violence. "I still carry a taser, Caitlin," she says through gritted teeth.

_How can this stupid girl make light of cheating on Logan and screwing with his head? _

"Whatever, Veronica Mars. You're not going to tase me in front of all these witnesses."

Madison shoots Caitlin a frown. "Can you just wait inside?"

"No, I'm good," Caitlin answers, not about to miss any drama.

Clearly frustrated, Madison turns back to Veronica. "Can we start over? Or go somewhere to talk privately?"

Veronica sighs. "Madison, I appreciate your apology, but we're not going to become coffee buddies. I still don't like you, and I never will."

Madison's companions titter, and she shoots them a glare over her shoulder before turning back to Veronica. "My intention isn't to start a fight with you. I'm trying to be friendly."

"You speaking Logan's name to me is a guaranteed fight starter, now if you don't mind—"

Caitlin inserts herself into the conversation. "Everybody knows Veronica dumped Logan after he hooked up with you in Aspen, Madison."

_I get it now. This is a nightmare, right? Any minute now, I'll wake up._

The other blondes lean forward as if sharks to blood.

"So it's true?" Madison asks. "You really broke up over _that_?"

"It's nobody's business why we broke up," Veronica says, aware that denying is as good as admitting.

"Logan told John that Madison gives the best blowjobs he's ever had." Caitlin says.

Veronica hasn't experienced real jealousy since seeing Logan with Parker before she left Neptune. She's reminded now how it feels. Like a battering ram to the gut. Back in college, when she'd obsessed over Logan with Madison a hundred different ways, record-level oral sex hadn't even occurred to her. She reacts without thinking. "Well she's certainly had enough practice on her knees."

Madison recoils as if she'd been physically slapped.

_What Madison? You've never hesitated to insinuate that I was a slut. _

Madison squares her shoulders as if about to go into battle. "For your information, I never even went down on Logan in Aspen."

"I never said _when_ he said it," Caitlin smirks and then turns to Veronica. "Madison used to give him his consolation blows every time Lilly dumped him."

Veronica's gut churns with nausea. _So she was there before me? Did my fumblings even compare?_

"I never touched Logan when he had a girlfriend," Madison says. "And that includes Aspen. You were broken up at the time."

"I never said you did," Veronica mumbles still reeling from this latest bit of knowledge.

_I need to get the hell out of here, because I think I'm about to snap. _

"I didn't lure him away from you, Veronica. Was he supposed to have a signed permission slip or something?"

"Okay, well this conversation is becoming a little too 'High School' for me, so I'm out of here."

"Didn't you know?" Caitlin says, as Veronica sidesteps Madison and starts walking away. "Veronica's exes are supposed to wait patiently on the shelf until she's ready to give them the time of day again. Just ask Duncan Kane."

"Right," Madison's voice comes from behind her. "Meg Manning would still be alive if Veronica hadn't crooked her finger at him."

Veronica freezes. A red haze seems to take over her vision, and then she's spinning around and storming back, not even trying to keep her voice down. "You are a vindictive bitch and I hate you. Keep pissing me off, and I will make you wish you were never born.

Caitlin looks entirely too pleased with herself, and a mother leading her two small children into The Hut, stops to scowl at Veronica.

_Crap. _

Veronica continues in a quieter voice. "You know what? I did break up with Logan because of Aspen. _He knew_ how much I despised you. You represented everything I loathed in the world."

Madison's face settles into the haughty expression Veronica remembers so well. "Wow. You're still as much of a bitch as ever, Veronica. I was trying to be a nice, but if you want to take the gloves off, so be it." She takes a step closer. "You had Logan Echolls. _Logan Echolls. _You know how many girls in this town would kill for the opportunity to date him?" She gestures vaguely at Caitlin's blonde minions. "And you not only dated him, but he was madly in love with you."

"Am I supposed to be surprised by your jealousy?" Veronica asks, more composed now. Petty jealousy she can deal with. "Your crush on Logan was never a secret. Lilly used to joke about it back in Junior High. Guess you finally got your turn in Aspen. Hope it was worth it."

"You think it was worth it?" Madison asks incredulously. She takes another step closer and lowers her voice. "It was the most humiliating experience of my life."

Veronica steps back in surprise. "I don't want to hear this."

"Too bad. I'm going to tell you all about Aspen. You should know what you threw your boyfriend away for."

"No. I really shouldn't—"Veronica begins.

_I was over this. I was really over this. _

"He wasn't looking to hook up, you know," Madison speaks over her. "He was already beyond trashed when I ran into him at the hotel bar, and he only wanted to talk. About you." She pauses to roll her eyes. "For. Two. Hours. All about you. How much he loved you. How all he ever did was disappoint you. How you'd be happier with somebody more cultured. Something about you getting yourself drugged and killed and not letting him help. It was pretty pathetic, honestly."

_Why didn't I keep walking? Nothing is worth having to listen to this._

Madison continues. "So by the time I took him to his room, he was so drunk that he passed out in the middle of sex. On top of me, and when he woke up and saw me, he ran away and puked. You think that was worth it?"

It takes a moment for Veronica to find her voice. "If it was so bad, why did you try to come back for more?"

"Because I was stupid!" Frustration is evident in Madison's voice. "You know, Logan's a nice guy and everything, but one day I just realized it was never really Logan I wanted, but a boyfriend who would look at me the way that Logan looked at Lilly. And then you."

Madison pauses for a second as if something has occurred to her - something that makes her almost smile - then she seems to remember where she is and who she's with and launches back in at Veronica. "So that's the sordid details of Aspen. How lucky are you to have me to blame for your breakup? Can't have you taking responsibility for the fact that you took him for granted, and you let him get away. Honestly you never deserved him."

"You know nothing about our relationship. And you _wanted_ the blame. You couldn't wait to tell me how you'd hooked up with him. You wanted to break us up."

"I wasn't aware that I wielded that much power in your relationship, Veronica." Madison says with a cruel smirk. "Now that I think about it, maybe I _will_ bid on Logan at the Bachelor Auction tomorrow. I have a fifteen thousand dollar insurance check at home just waiting to be spent."

"Oh no!" Veronica covers her mouth pretending shock. "You've got me. Please don't bid on the guy I broke up with _six years ago_." She rolls her eyes to show just how unaffected she is by the threat.

"It's not like _you_ can afford to outbid me," Madison continues. "Pity, too. Buying him is probably the_ only_ way you could get close to him these days, after the shameful way you treated him and broke his heart."

"You go right ahead and bid on him, Madison." Veronica says. "Imagine how many needy people that money will feed. In fact, I hope you and Logan have the best date ever."

Madison seems to realize all at once what she'd just committed to. Suddenly, she doesn't seem happy at all, and Veronica can actually believe that she has no interest in Logan anymore. She opens her mouth to speak – probably to backtrack – when an older lady approaches.

"Good evening, ladies," the woman says with an annoyed sniff. She has the air of a stuffy society matron. In her mid-fifties, wearing a yellow-green suit with a giant emerald brooch on her left lapel, her lips have the pursed look of chronic disapproval. "I was expecting you to be inside already."

"I'll be right in Mrs. Caldwell," Madison says, eyes sliding back to Veronica.

Veronica can't help herself. _What's a little knife twisting between old enemies?_ With Caitlin and her evil minions turned away to greet the newcomer, Veronica holds Madison's gaze, fingers the hem of her blouse and lifts it - only an inch or two, pretending to scratch at her side. Madison's eyes squint in confusion and then widen in understanding. Veronica smirks contemptuously.

_What is wrong with me? _

_This is rock bottom, Veronica. You're actually fighting over a guy. One who hasn't been your boyfriend for years. Time to go. _

"I trust there are no complications for tomorrow's bachelor auction?" Mrs. Caldwell asks.

Still reeling over the way she'd been had, Madison takes a moment to answer. "Everything's on track."

"Good. We still need to strategize. I intend for us to surpass Celeste Kane's summer fundraiser record by at least ten percent."

Fingers of ice run up Veronica's spine at the sound of the hated name.

Caitlin interrupts. "That shouldn't be a problem, Mrs. Caldwell. Madison here just announced her intention to bid fifteen thousand on Mayor Echolls."

"Madison, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Caldwell smiles genuinely. "I knew putting you in charge of this committee was the right choice. I can't wait to tell the other ladies at the club. They'll be so pleased."

Madison looks as if she wishes for the ground to open up and swallow her.

"Well...It's been anything _but_ fun, Madison." Veronica says, stepping around her and rushing away to her car.

* * *

She's almost there. Almost to safety, when she hears Madison's voice behind her.

"Veronica, wait."

She keeps walking, but Madison catches up before Veronica can open the door of her car. "You dropped these," she says handing Veronica her sunglasses.

"Um...thanks," Veronica says, and reaches for her door handle. "Gotta go."

Madison stops her. "I never wanted to fight with you. I was only trying to be a good person and apologize. But Caitlin…"

"Don't look at me," Veronica says. "She's your friend."

"No, we're on a committee together. We don't socialize."

Veronica shrugs and reaches for her door handle.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Madison asks. "I mean, I know I was a bitch in high school, but you forgave Logan. I never did anything to you that he didn't."

"Why do you care? What's in it for you?"

Madison hesitates as if trying to be careful with her words. "It's a small town, Veronica. We're going to run into each other. It would be nice if we could be civil."

_She's leaving out something important._

Veronica sighs and leans back against her car. "I hate you for what you did to me at Shelly Pomroy's end of the year party, sophomore year."

Madison pauses to think. "Because I wrote 'slut' on your windshield, or do you mean because I spit in your drink? You're still hung up on that? I was fifteen years old, and to be fair, you did make out with my boyfriend that night, right in front of me, so I think we're even."

"I did NOT make out with your boyfriend!"

"You made out with everybody."

"I was DRUGGED! I told you that in the bathroom at school. And we aren't even close to even."

"So you really were drugged?" Madison asks, pensively. "I thought you were making that up as an excuse."

_Can she be any denser? _

"What? You wouldn't be the first to behave...um...promiscuously…and then try to blame it on alcohol or drugs. I've done it myself."

Veronica stares at her debating whether to continue.

_Fuck it. I have nothing to be ashamed of. _

"I'll be crystal clear, Madison," she says in a deceptively calm voice. "I was raped at Shelly's party, and you are responsible."

"What?" Madison's eyes widen in what appears to be genuine shock. "I had no idea..."

Even with the paper band, Veronica's latte is becoming too hot. She switches the cup to her left hand. "Well now you do."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that, but how exactly am I responsible?"

"You're the one who drugged me."

"I did no such thing!"

Veronica exhales deeply, struggling to keep her composure. "The rum and Coke you handed me - the one you spit in - was dosed with GHB."

"So that's why you came after me at Logan's party? You thought I drugged you?"

"You did."

"GHB? Isn't that Liquid X? That doesn't even make any sense. I didn't have any GHB. I've never had any. Dick gave me that drink, anyway. There's no way he could have known I would give it to you."

"He didn't," Veronica says pointedly. "According to Luke, Dick didn't think you were putting out quickly enough."

Veronica watches Madison's eyes as the tumblers click into place.

Finally, she speaks. "So what you're saying is that Dick Casablancas put drugs in my drink with the intention of raping me?" She looks like she's about to vomit.

"Basically. Although I'm sure he'd use different words."

"But then I spit in the cup and handed it to you and he raped you instead?"

"No, he egged-on his little brother to do it."

"You were raped by the _psycho_?" Madison's voice rises at the last word.

"Yes." Veronica breathes deeply to combat the nausea. "And thanks to you, I was too unconscious to fend him off." She leaves it at that. She doesn't even want to get into the Duncan side of the story. From what she'd pieced together, she'd already been violated before he'd ever stumbled into that bedroom.

A range of emotions crosses Madison's face before she speaks again. "I wouldn't wish rape on anybody."

"Good to know you're not a sociopath. And now that I've relived one of the worst moments in my life, I'm going to leave."

"Wait a second. I'm not done."

Veronica sighs and shifts her weight to her other foot.

"I am truly sorry for my small part in your rape," Madison begins. "Truly. But how _dare_ you pin the blame on me."

Veronica's jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"I was the intended victim."

_I can't believe this girl. _"You're making this about you?"

"Kind of hard not to, Veronica. I just learned that I narrowly escaped being raped by my ex-boyfriend, which is a bit of a shock. And I want to sympathize with what you went through - I really do - but it's kind of hard to when I know that you wish it was me that was raped that night."

"I never—"

"You're basically saying I'm at fault for _not_ being raped?"

"I didn't—"Veronica begins.

"So of the three parties involved: myself, a fifteen year old girl pulling a childish prank with the intent to be a bitch. Dick, who willfully drugged a drink with the intent to rape me, And Beaver who actually assaulted you. Of those three people, _I'm _the one you hold responsible?"

Veronica's eyes narrow, but Madison is just getting started. "You're letting Dick off the hook when he was the one who drugged you."

"I never said I let Dick off the hook."

"You kind of did, when you let him move in with your boyfriend."

"That's between Logan, Dick, and me. It's none of your business."

"It's my business when I've been the scapegoat all this time."

"Madison," she says through clenched teeth. "I understand that this has come as a shock to you. Learning that your boyfriend intended to drug and have sex with you. And I can understand where the first instinct would be to become defensive over your culpability. BUT IT WASN'T YOUR BODY THAT WAS VIOLATED!"

She forcibly moves Madison – only enough to allow her to open her car door – but one of her skinny heels gets caught in a parking lot rut, and she falls down on her ass.

"Crap," Veronica says. "I didn't mean to do that."

She holds out a hand to help her up, but Madison shakes her head warily. "I'm fine. Just go, Veronica."

Not needing to be told twice, she slides into her car, slamming the door behind her. She watches Madison brushing herself off in the rearview as she pulls away from the parking lot.

Maybe it was time to put the past behind her. Madison had a point. She'd never intended for Veronica to be raped.

_It's not like I don't have much more serious problems than a high school rivalry. _

She recalls Madison's threat to bid on Logan at the auction.

_I'll let go of the past on Monday. Give me one last bitter weekend._

* * *

Finally home from work, Mac decides to give it one more try to reach Veronica, dialing the Mars' residence this time. She hooks on her blue-tooth earpiece to free up her hands and slips out of her work clothes while she listens to the phone ring.

Five rings later, she's about to hang up when Veronica answers, sounding breathless.

"Hello?"

"Veronica, it's Mac. Were you exercising or something?" She pulls on a pair of yoga pants and flips through her closet for a tee shirt.

Veronica chuckles. "No, just got home. Had to jog to the kitchen to catch the phone. How's it going?"

_Okay, no perceptible chill in her voice. _

"Great. I was afraid you were dodging my calls."

"Why? Did you try my cell?" Veronica asks.

"Only three times."

"Damn!" Veronica says. "Sorry 'bout that. I turned off my phone earlier to dodge somebody else's calls and forgot to turn it back on."

"Anybody I know?" Dressed, Mac stands in front of her bathroom mirror and pulls her short hair back into a low ponytail. The layers in the front immediately slip out of the hair tie, and she pushes them behind her ears.

"Who, Joe? No. He was my partner on the force. Oh look, three missed calls from my dad. Guess that explains why he let me wander into the belly of the beast."

"What beast? Do I know this beast?"

Veronica laughs. "Long story. So what's up?"

"I just wanted to apologize for not being able to make it to dinner last night." _And speaking of dinner_...Mac stares inside her mostly empty fridge, too worn out to cook anything complicated, too tired to go out for takeout.

"Don't sweat it. Wallace filled me in on your work situation."

"Yeah, it's been crazy busy at work lately. It's my own fault, I guess. I should have set boundaries a long time ago." She decides on pasta. Doesn't take too long, doesn't require too much effort.

"What's stopping you?"

Mac pauses to consider how to articulate it. "I guess it's fear that I'll have come back and sweep up messes if I don't handle everything right from the start. It is Dick we're talking about here." She pulls a stockpot from the overhead rack and places it under the faucet to fill.

"Ahh…" Veronica says in her best generic Eastern European shrink voice. "You're exhibiting classic control freak behavior."

Takes one to know one," Mac returns with a sardonic twist of the lips. "So hey. I still want to get together. How's tomorrow for you?"

"Tomorrow...?" Veronica begins.

"Wait. Never mind. Have that bachelor's auction thing at the Neptunalia tomorrow." She turns on a stove burner and sets the pot to boil, before reaching for some boxed pasta in the cabinet.

"Cynthia MacKenzie! Are you planning to bid on some lucky bachelor?"

"Yes. Under duress_. _Long story._" A lot of duress_. "You should come if you're not busy."

"I was planning to check it out for the sake of Wallace, but now I'm not so sure. Just got back from a little run in with my old friend, Madison Sinclair."

A rush of pure hatred flows over Mac, making her jaw clench. "I hate Madison."

"Who doesn't?"

"No, I don't mean mild disdain. I mean_ 'full-on-every-fiber-of-my-being'_ hate."

_But Veronica wouldn't know about the bad blood between us. _

Other than quick phone conversations and emails, Mac and Veronica haven't had much opportunity to talk the past couple years. They'd often arranged to hang out, but between Mac's job and Veronica's caseload, they'd always ended up cancelling.

Moving to a large cage, she checks on her boys. Mac has never been a conventional girl, so it's no surprise she has unconventional pets. Pixel, as usual, stands on his back feet grasping the wire bars and wiggling his whiskers at her. A medium-sized Dumbo rat with a white belly, pale French gray back, and giant round ears, he's the attention whore of the two. His brother, Widget, of a darker gray, is nowhere in sight, which means he's probably napping in his hammock.

"Tell me about it," Veronica says, in a soft voice.

Mac lets out a deep breath. "Well you may remember our little switched at birth situation." She lifts Pixel from the cage, bringing him to her chest, where he immediately crawls up to nestle in his favorite place between her neck and shoulder, tickling her skin with his whiskers.

"Rings a bell."

"Well it all came out a couple years ago, and I had the opportunity to bond with my biological mom. We started having regular Sunday mother/daughter dates." She sighs. "Veronica, she just got me. We were so close."

"That's wonderful, but I sense a _'but'_ coming."

"Yeah. But...about a year and a half ago, she had a stroke." Mac's belly knots in in pain at the memory. She can still see Ellen Sinclair, so small and fragile in her hospital bed.

"Oh my God, Mac. I am so sorry."

"She spent the last two weeks of her life in the hospital, and Madison had me barred from seeing her."

"And you had no legal rights?"

"Exactly. Bio-dad was in Dubai on business and didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. He didn't even come back, which left Madison in charge. She was so jealous of me - of our relationship - that she wouldn't let me see my mother. I begged her, Veronica. I pleaded."

Even now, Mac's eyes flood with tears remembering that feeling of helplessness and how heartless Madison had been. "Luckily, Lauren snuck me in the day before she died. I was able to see her that one last time. But even then, Madison showed up and pitched a fit."

"That bitch!" Veronica says.

"Yeah." Mac angrily swipes away the tears, remembering Madison's rant: _My mother is dying. I'm done sharing._ "So what happened when you ran into her?"

"It was the oddest thing ever. She chased me down and actually tried to apologize."

"Okay…?"

"So I tried to be an adult. I accepted her apology and tried to escape, but she had to go and bring up Logan."

Mac gives a loud exaggerated gasp. "She said the forbidden L word?"

"Ha. Ha." Veronica says dryly. "She couldn't let it be. She invited me to the bachelor auction and 'kindly' tried to warn me that the competition would be stiff for Logan."

"I suppose that's when you handed her her ass?"

"Give me a little more credit than that. I didn't hand her her ass until she blamed me for Meg's death."

"Ouch."

"Mac, I saw red. I kind of lost it. Got loud. Blamed her for my rape and my break up with Logan. Told her how much I hated her."

"Wish I could've been there. How'd she respond?" Mac checks the pot on the stove, but it's not yet boiling.

"Well she gave up on her idea of trying to be nice. She came right back at me. Said that I was a horrible girlfriend who never deserved Logan, and that bidding on him at the auction was the only way I'd ever get him to come near me again. Then she publicly announced she'd be bidding on him, just to spite me since I could never afford to outbid her."

"Big surprise."

"Thing is? I don't think she even wants to go out with Logan. Seemed she regretted it as soon as she said it. I even felt like her apology was sincere. At least at first."

"It may have been sincere. She's been doing this 'making amends' thing for a few months now. I haven't seen her, but I've talked to other people."

"I wonder why?"

"I've heard rumors. A few weeks after the death of her - our - mom, Madison got in a car accident. Remember Jessica Fuller? School board president?"

"Yeah, Sabrina Fuller's mom. She had a pervy husband. And another kid. Edwin. Or Edmund or something. Really creepy. I babysat him once."

"Right. That's her. Anyway, Madison ran a red light and t-boned her car. She was dead before the ambulance came."

Veronica gasps. "That's horrible!"

"That's just the beginning. People say that Madison was trashed at the time of the accident, but nobody will ever know for sure. She wandered away from the crash-site on foot and disappeared until the next day when she showed up claiming to have a head injury. She ended up getting away with killing that poor woman."

The water is now boiling, so Mac adds a single portion of dried rigatoni.

"You think she was faking it?"

"Definitely. I guess the guilt got to be too much, though. They say she hit rock bottom. Started doing a lot of drugs and hanging out in dive bars on the seedy side of town. Trading sex for drugs."

_Well that explains a few things. Like why she reacted so strongly to the comment I made about being on her knees._

"Probably. Anyway, maybe a year ago, she was suddenly back on the scene. Throwing herself into charity work and apologizing to anybody that'll listen." While the pasta boils, she moves to the front door, retrieving a handful of envelopes from the mail slot.

"And she never apologized to you?"

"She may have wanted to, but I take off every time I see her coming. I don't want her apology. It's much too late for that."

"I can't blame you."

Mac sighs, stroking Pixel's back. "Listen to me. When did I start spreading rumors?"

"No judgment here, Gossip Girl. I sunk to new lows and argued over a boy today. We should have our own show on the CW with all this drama."

Mac chuckles. "So how are you going to deal with her and the Logan thing?"

"I don't have to deal with her."

"It doesn't bother you? She's only doing it to hurt you." Mac idly flips through the mail...credit card offer...electric bill...a Neptune California postcard. She flips it over, but all it says is '_You should begin searching for a new job immediately_' in plain block letters. No return address.

_That's odd._

"She's only hurting herself," Veronica continues. "She publically committed to bid fifteen thousand on a guy she clearly doesn't want to go on a date with. Plus, I may have lifted up my shirt an inch or two to scratch at my side."

"Okay…? You flashed Madison?"

_Why would anybody tell me to search for a new job?_

She's about to mention the postcard, but Veronica's next words makes her forget all about it.

"And Logan's signature may have been stamped on my hipbone. Probably the most immature thing I've done in my life."

"WHAT?! How exactly did Logan's signature end up on your hipbone?"

"Um...he kind of stamped it there. And a few other places. You know how he likes to fiddle with things."

"Veronica Mars! You've been back one day! How did this happen?"

"Well, nobody thought to mention to me that my ex-boyfriend was the new mayor. I walked into his office and was kind of blindsided."

"Ahhh...Beast. Belly. Now it all makes sense. And, for the record, you're the one who forbid us all from speaking the 'L' word."

"That was different!" Veronica protests, and then lowers her voice. "I imagined him in a bad place. Drinking a lot. And I didn't want to know, because I didn't want to feel responsible, and I didn't want to feel obligated to come back and try to fix him. I needed to live my own life."

"I understand."

"And I didn't want to know if he was married...because..."

"Because it would break your heart?" Mac guessed.

Veronica made a noise that was probably supposed to sound dismissive, but Mac knew better.

"So you mean to tell me you and Logan said hello and five minutes later you were humping like bunnies on his desk?"

"Switch the order."

"Huh?"

"We humped like bunnies and _then _we said hello."

Mac laughs. "Of _course_ you did. So one day back and you two are already back together?"

Back in the kitchen, she stirs the pasta in the pot and tests for doneness. _A little longer._

"NO! We're not back together. We're just...complicated."

"Think about it, Veronica. Six years apart and you fall right back into each other at your first meeting? Maybe it's time to face it, Veronica. He's the one."

"Next subject."

"Fine. Next subject? You're going to allow Madison to go on a date with Logan?"

"I have no choice. I can't take fifteen thousand away from charity."

"I'm sure Logan would reimburse you if you outbid her."

"I won't give her the satisfaction, and it would be cruel to give him any false hope. I have no room in my life for a relationship right now."

"You've been saying that for months, Veronica. You can't close off your heart forever."

"And when was your last date, Miss MacKenzie? Huh?"

"Sometimes I don't like you very much," Mac says with a laugh.

They talk for a few more minutes, finalizing plans to meet up tomorrow at the bachelor's auction, before getting off the phone.

* * *

Sometimes Madison still has to pinch herself to believe this is real. He lies next to her in bed, looking at her with those beautiful eyes and she can almost believe she's the person he thinks she is. More than anything, she wants to be worthy of the trust and faith he gives her so readily.

It hasn't always like this between them. To say she'd resented his interference in the beginning is putting it mildly.

She'd almost gotten a restraining order on him the first few times he'd dragged her out of a dive bar kicking and screaming. So what if she had a fucking death wish? What was it to him anyway? How dare he presume he could fix her?

_The first time, she's afraid. Scratches and claws at him. He dumps her unceremoniously in her own back seat, and digs through her purse for her license and her phone. Pocketing her stash. She screams and insults him the entire ride. Threatens to press charges._

_"For what? Interrupting your little drug buy?" he asks. "That shit is poison. Three people have died – one of them a friend of mine." _

"_So? That's not my problem."_

"_So, I'm not going to let that happen to anybody else. Even a bitch like you."_

_He doesn't try to come inside her house, instead calling a cab and waiting for it at the end of her driveway. He takes her keys with him, but she finds them between her front door and the screen the next morning. _

_The second time is a repeat. Less scratching. More verbal abuse. _

_The third time she's on her knees by the dumpster about to blow some guy – Artie, or something that begins with an 'A'. She's done it before, but he's nothing to her. It's not like she would date him or anything, but there's a tenderness to the way he holds her head and tenderness is something that's been missing in her life. She takes it where she can get it. As she's reaching for his zipper, she's finds herself being hauled away. _

_She's too high to catch what he says to Artie, but she's being dragged to her car yet again. She slaps him in the face when he releases her arm, and he clenches his jaw and pushes her in the backseat. This time, he comes inside her house, searches out her stash in the medicine cabinet, and flushes it while she hits and shoves at him. _

_The fourth and fifth times, she submits silently and sullenly while he searches her purse and her medicine cabinet. She thinks the local bartenders are spying for him. _

_The sixth and seventh times she's on harder stuff, and barely remembers making it home, but while she's out of it, he discovers her most secret hiding places – inside the cardboard tubes of the backup toilet paper in the linen closet, and the bottom of the cereal box under the wax bag. Flushes it all. _

_The eighth time, she's back to screaming insults. She doesn't know how he managed to arrange it, but suddenly nobody will sell to her anymore. Not for cash. Not for sex. Not for threats. _

_The ninth time, she leans over the console and reaches for his zipper. He's only a man, after all, and men have needs. He pushes her away. Completely uninterested. _

_The tenth time, she strips naked while he's searching her home for drugs. Lies on the bed and calls out for him._

_"This is what you want, right? You fucking pervert! Take a good look because you can never touch this."_

_He tosses a nearby blanket over her and goes back to his search. _

_Infuriated, she gets back up, presses her body against him. Tries to force him to touch her. Reaches between his legs and finds his dick completely limp. _

_She runs to the bathroom and locks herself in, crying in humiliation until long after he's left, taking the last of her hidden stash of Oxycontin with him. _

_She begins talking the eleventh time he drags her away from a bar. "Why are you doing this to me? You can't possibly understand what I'm going through."_

_"Try me."_

_"I caused somebody's death."_

_"I've been there."_

_She allows the silence to linger for a minute. "You ever see somebody trying to speak with a shard of metal through their throat?"_

_"Can't say that I have." _

_"Well, that's what I see when I close my eyes. Mrs. Fuller. She was trying to say something, but she could only make these disgusting bloody bubbles. And her eyes..." Madison shudders. "They were pleading with me, and I was so wasted and had no idea what to do. Then it was as if somebody hit the power switch. She just turned...off. Permanently." _

"_She died in front of you."_

"_Yeah. And it only stops hurting when I'm high." _

_After the usual sweep of her purse, her medicine cabinet, her old hiding spots, and her new ones, he sits down on the bed next to her. Strokes her hair while she confesses how she had run through the woods until she couldn't run anymore. Collapsing, and puking and then crawling and puking. Anything to put more distance between herself and the lifeless husk of Mrs. Fuller. How she'd taken shelter from the rain in a crevice between two boulders. How she'd laughed in hysteria over how her outdoorsy bio parents would be proud of her outdoor survival skills, and cried because her mom was dead and never coming back. _

_She falls asleep mid-sentence, and he's gone when she wakes in the morning. _

_The twelfth time he drags her out of a bar, she's faking. He calls her on it when he brings her home. _

_"If you wanted my company, you could have just called me."_

_"Why the hell would I want your company? I hate you."_

_"Okay." He shrugs and goes to leave. Not even a search tonight._

_"Wait." She stops him. "I don't even know how to reach you."_

_"Would you like my phone number?"_

_She stares at her feet as she nods her head. "It just that...you're the only person who cares whether I live or die." _

_He sits next to her on her bed. "I think you might be one of the loneliest people I have ever met."_

_"What do you expect? My mom is...dead...and my sister has replaced me. My dad has always been distant. And my friends...were probably never really my friends at all."_

_"Do you honestly want people to like you?"_

_"Who doesn't?"_

_"Then it's simple. Be likeable."_

_"I AM likeable."_

_He grins at her for the first time since...maybe third grade? "No, you're an entitled pain-in-the-ass. But I think there's a good person buried somewhere under that bitchiness. You can practice being likeable on me, if you want." _

_She calls him much more often than she should. Sometimes he's too busy with his own life, but he usually comes otherwise. Although he occasionally sleeps next to her, he never once tries to make a move on her. She, of course, is hopelessly and madly in love with him. A small part of her realizes she's only replacing one type of drug for another. _

_"I feel so lost sometimes. Like things will never get any better."_

_"You need to make up for killing an innocent person and getting away with it."_

_"You think I should turn myself in?"_

_"No, that won't bring her back. You just need to generate some good karma. Make amends to the people you've wronged. Give back to the community or something." _

_She throws herself into charity work with a passion, and he's right, giving to others does ease the black weight on her chest. She feels better. She'll never be sweetness and light like Meg Manning - her inner thoughts still lean more towards bitchy - but she's a new and improved Madison. _

_Sometimes she sees him out on dates. It's a small town. It's bound to happen. She smiles bravely, and never lets him see her cry in the bathroom. _

_Months go by and one night he shows up at her door with a small gift box._

_"What's this for?"_

_"Open it."_

_Inside, she finds a 3/4 inch brushed silver cuff bracelet. It's simple and elegant. When she holds it to the light, an engraving on the inside catches her eye: "I'm so proud of you." _

_"You're proud of me? For the charity work?"_

_"Of course, I'm proud of you for that, but this is because you've made it six months without getting fucked up."_

_"I have?" The bracelet is warmer against her skin than she expected. She wants to kiss him for it, but is too afraid of rejection. _

_"Yeah. So...I was wondering..." He rubs the back of his head nervously. "Would you like to go on a date some time?"_

Six months later, and she's happier than she's ever been in her life. He's loving and attentive. Looks at her as if she's precious. And the sex is amazing - Dick had been a selfish lover and Don was all about technique. But _he_ always provides what she needs - tender when she's feeling fragile, and rough when she wants it that way.

Sure, sometimes she worries he's caught up in something sketchy when she wakes up in the middle of the night to find him gone, but he's always back by the morning, and she completely trusts him.

He is surprisingly perfect for her, and that's why this is going to be so hard.

"I have to tell you something…" she begins. "...and you're not going to like it."

"What happened?"

"I had a backslide today."

He's instantly alert. "You got high?"

"No. Nothing like that. I just had a little altercation."

"You want to talk about it?"

"I ran into Veronica Mars outside of Java the Hut."

He sighs. "How bad was it?"

"I had the best of intentions. I only wanted to apologize for the past and make amends. But Caitlin kept causing trouble."

She doesn't dare to tell him about Veronica's rape or of Dick's intentions to rape her.

"I hate that bitch, Caitlin," he says. "Things got out of hand?"

"You could say that. You might even say ugly."

"I'm not your keeper, Madi. Of course, you're going to have a bad day now and then. I'd prefer you not to have them with Veronica Mars, because she'll fuck up your life, but you don't have to report back to me."

"I know, but there's more." Madison takes a deep breath. "She pissed me off really bad, and I don't know what came over me, but I ended up publicly committing to bid fifteen thousand dollars for Logan Echolls in the bachelor auction."

"Oh hell!" He's up off the bed in a flash, starting to pace. "What were you thinking?"

"I _wasn't_ thinking. I was in pure reactionary mode, and I wanted to hurt her. Logan has always been her weakness."

"He was _your _weakness once. You sure that has nothing to do with it?"

Madison jumps out of bed and steps in front of him, grabbing him by the arms. "_You_ are my only weakness. I swear. I wanted to back out of it, but then Mrs. Caldwell showed up, and stupid Caitlin told her what I said."

"And now you can't back out without losing your standing."

"Exactly. Please don't be mad at me."

He exhales and runs a hand over his face. "I'm not mad at you. Just worried."

"Maybe we could just go public. As a couple." Madison mentions, trying not to look too hopeful. "Then everyone will know that I'm not after Logan."

He rubs the back of his neck and looks at her guiltily.

Madison looks away quickly. "Oh...you don't want to?"

"You know why this is a really bad time for that."

She sighs. It hurts, but she has nobody to blame but herself. "I understand."

He pulls her into his arms. "I'm only stalling. No matter what happens, I pick you. I love you."

Her stomach bottoms out. "You love me?"

He flashes a crooked grin. "Yeah. You haven't figured that out by now?"

"I love you too!" She says and peppers his face with kisses. Nobody has ever made her this happy in her life.

He guides her back to bed, covering her body with his own, and whispering that he loves her while kissing her all over.

She believes him. She really does, but she can't help the sick feeling in her gut that this charity date with Logan is going to ruin everything.

* * *

Several of Veronica's voicemails are from her father warning her to call him before going to see the mayor. She deletes Joe's messages without listening. There's a message from Rick saying he'd found the laminating machine and it still works. He'll drop off a shiny new Hearst badge in the morning. She's listening to Mac's first message when the doorbell rings.

A teenage boy stands on the doorstep. Barely old enough to drive, dark curly hair and thick glasses.

"You Veronica Mars?"

"Yes…?" she answers warily.

He shoves a gift bag at her. Glossy black with the 'Sharper Image' logo in white. "Mayor wanted me to give this to you."

"Tell the mayor that I can't accept any gifts from him."

"He told you would say that, and to leave it on the doorstep if you did."

"Of _course_ he did." She sighs, accepting the bag. "How do you know the mayor?"

"Neighbor." The boy wiggles his fingers in a wave and takes off.

Veronica carries the bag into the kitchen, setting it on the counter. She'll send the package back to him tomorrow.

She pours a glass of water and searches the cabinets for a sweet snack.

She thinks she can feel the gift watching her.

_Sharper Image. So it's some kind of gadget. _

_Voice recording pen?_

_Personal massager?_

_Power wine-bottle opener?_

_Nose hair trimmer?_

Finally, she sighs and begins yanking layers of tissue paper from the bag.

At first glance, she thinks it's an alarm clock. After pulling the box out of the bag, she finds that it's a 'Sound Soother White Noise Machine'.

A yellow post-it note stuck to the glossy box, says simply, '_Sleep, Veronica_' in Logan's large handwriting.

She shakes her head and can't help but smile.

Under the box, she finds a folded document. Another sticky note says: '_Your father emailed me this PDF_'.

Her P.I. license extension. Logan's loopy signature at the bottom.

_Good boy._

After unboxing it, she takes the contraption to her bedroom, placing it on her nightstand and plugging it in. According to the box, the machine has twenty relaxing sounds.

_What's the difference between 'Surf', 'Oceanside' and 'Tide'?_

She tests out all three and finds that 'Surf' reminds her most of the machine Logan used at the Neptune Grand.

_Logan._

She's not sure how to process what she'd learned from Caitlin and Madison earlier. She's definitely annoyed that he'd never mentioned screwing around with Madison before her. She hates being ambushed like that.

She remembers a pair of brown-eyed teenage brothers she'd interviewed several years ago after the death of their father, both bearing the burns and scars of the chronically abused. Convinced of their innocence, and perhaps subconsciously wanting to better understand her ex-boyfriend, she'd struck up a rapport with the boys.

"Volunteer nothing," Tommy, the younger brother had told her. "No matter what choice you make, no matter what the circumstances are, you're always in the wrong."

"There's no such thing as a statute of limitations." the older brother, Adam, added. "Doesn't matter when you did it, you'll still be punished. Never hand over ammunition that can be used against you later."

She'd cancelled plans with her boyfriend that night, staying home instead with a bottle of wine and old photo albums. Finally grasping the driving force behind Logan's annoying habit of constantly withholding information.

Her cell is in her hand before she realizes, and she's dialing by memory.

He answers on the third ring. "Hello?"

"You haven't changed your number in all of these years?"

"You haven't deleted my number in all of these years?"

"I did, but somehow I still remembered it."

"You got my gift?"

"Yeah, it came a few minutes ago."

"Thought it might help. You always said you slept best at my place because of my white noise machine."

_I lied, you big dummy. It was you. Your warmth. The sound of your breathing. _

_My human shield against things that go bump in the night._

Then again, maybe he's more devious than she's giving him credit for, forcing her to remember the good times.

"Thank you, Logan. It was very thoughtful."

"You're welcome," his voice is soft. "Figured you couldn't dream about me if you weren't sleeping."

She chuckles, and closes her eyes. Listens to the silence for a minute - all of the things he's not saying, but she knows he's thinking.

"Well...I'm going to hang up now. Thanks again."

"Goodnight, Veronica."

"Night, Lo."

She hangs up and powers on the machine to 'Surf' mode. Lies back on the plump pillow and closes her eyes.

_I still love you, too. _

_Jackass._

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry. I like to start with the character growth I want to see and then work backwards to explain how it came about. I know many people want to see Madison strictly for the purpose of being put in her place. But it's been done a thousand times in a thousand different ways. I wanted to do something different. People grow and change, including Madison. I tried to get into her head and imagine how she would really respond to Veronica. Also, I don't intend for this to be a 'pick on Dick' story, but it was necessary in this chapter.

**A/N2: **As always, so much love for Shanghai Lily for her amazing beta-ing and helping me work through the Veronica/Madison confrontation for days and days and days until was finally a semblance of what I was going for.

**A/N3: **This chapter was heavy on Veronica/Logan drama, but this will ultimately be a mystery heavy story.

**A/N4: **Now I will devote my entire attention to Sometimes. Promise.


End file.
